From The Ashes
by Beckydaspatz
Summary: Told from an O/C POV, there is romance, there is danger, there is witty banter and The Winchesters, what more could you ask for? :P Thank you for reading!
1. Chapter 1

**A.N.: So this is the latest thing from me. It started off as a crazy dream that I just needed to write down to get off my chest and 11 chapters and about 50k words later it was THIS! It's told from an O/C POV and may not be everyone's cup of tea, but please give it a chance and if you can't do that, do me a favor and keep your flames to yourself. A HUGE thanks to Sharlot for Betaing this for me and encouraging me to post this for other people to see and lastly for being a great friend. On that note another HUGE thank you to Dorothy for reading this and supporting me and being a great friend as well! I've been supremely blessed with you guys! This takes place somewhere in between 'Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things' and 'Simon Said' so spoilers up to that point. I am not in the medical profession so anything in here comes directly from Google, there is a love story in here between well...you'll figure it out pretty fast! Thanks to any who read and review and like this tale. You mean the world to me and I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this!**

**Disclaimer: It's awesome, but sadly it's not mine.**

CHAPTER 1

It's fairly disconcerting waking up in a hospital, let alone having some giant figure loom over you. Add in the crazy making pain shooting up my side, and oh yeah, this was a party.

"Whoa, easy." a male voice soothes beside me, as a large hand leans down to cover my shoulder. I bristle immediately, and shrug off the hand as I tried to shake the cobwebs from my head. Even moving that much sends jagged lines of hurt spiraling across my vision as I hiss out a breath.

"Ms. Tucker you are going to want to take it easy for awhile, you've been through quite an ordeal." again that male voice, thankfully he learns not to touch me this time, I don't have the strength to fend it off again and my whole body pulls tight with confusion.

"Yeah, okay." I breath, as I lie back on the pillow and slide my eyes over to my visitor.

He stands about 6'5", flopping brown hair falling into what looks like green eyes, and he has a look of caring and concern and about five other emotions on his face. His mouth tugs up in an awkward half smile and something in my heart softens.

"Who are you?" I inquire, as I drag a hand across my face to try and wipe the grit from my eyes. My god I feel tired and hurt, like my brain is a little loose in my skull...

"I'm Sam. Sam Henley. I'm a police officer." As if the uniform doesn't give it away. "I didn't mean to wake you up, just needed to get a statement."

"I'm Mckayla Tucker, but I guess you already knew that." I chuckle a little to myself as Sam seats his body into a plastic chair by my bed.

"Can you tell me what happened?" he says gently.

"Yeah, I...um..." Phantom pain shoots up my side accompanied with a shrill cry that I had heard way too many times in my life, but not with that sheer terror in it.

"Bailey!" I shout, propping myself up in the bed and ignoring the flare of discomfort as Sam jumps to his feet as well.

"Where is she? Where is my sister?" Everything in me is suddenly overly aware, heart pounding, skin itching.

"Calm down." he says softly as he reaches out to touch my hand even as my hysteria rises.

"Where the hell is my sister?" I cry out, wincing as a foreign substance in my skin stretches uncomfortably. Stitches?

Sam meets my eyes with resignation, knowing that I won't be placated until I know where she is.

"Mckayla, I'm sorry, but there was no one else brought from the house, it was just you."

Disbelief crowds my throat and tears sting at the corner of my eyes, it is about that time I throw up.

Seems like a good idea at the time.

He waits patiently for me to compose myself, and he hands me a glass of water when I am done purging my body from whatever it feels is unnecessary to my health. I push sweat soaked hair out of my face, and wish that I had a rubber band on me, damn thing is always in the way.

"Are you okay?" he asks his eyes full of care. They practically beam "you can tell me anything" in neon lights.

Yeah. I had fallen for that before though. Not again.

"Considering the fact that I just emptied out the contents of my stomach, some onto you, and you don't have any clue where my sister is, I'm thinking no."

He looks contrite as he mumbles. "Of course you're not okay, I'm sorry. It's just what you ask when,"

Man, I can be such a bitch when I feel like it. I throw the poor guy a bone.

"You don't know what else to say." we finish in unison and Sam laughs a little bit. It makes him look like a little kid and despite my hardened heart towards the male species, I find myself liking him a little bit more.

"So, what happened?" He is back to being all business again.

"I don't know. Don't remember that much, I was at home," Flashes of the dining room table, and Bailey reading a book on the opposite side of the table slam into my mind.

"Just me and Bailey, and there was a loud crash and," Overturned chairs, blown out light bulb, blood, and a scream that pierces the night.

"Something bad happened, something came for," Razors in my skin, pain, white hot, undeniable drives me to my knees even as I reach for her.

"Bailey, something took Bailey." my admission is quiet, my mind is still trying to process the cacophony of images flooding it.

"Something?"

"What?" his question shakes me from my thoughts.

"You said something, not someone." he states.

"What the hell difference does _that_ make? Bailey is still gone!" I push up from the bed. My anger is back immediately.

Body shutting down, something is wrong.

"I know this is hard for you, but I need to know exactly what happened."

My eyes narrow, face growing hard. I can feel my spidey sense tingle, something is off.

"I don't know exactly what happened, I just know my sister is in danger." I say it rushed, and I feel lightheaded even as I lay back down on the pillows.

"Can you remember anything? What your attacker looked like? Did they leave in a vehicle? Anything?"

His words seem fuzzy as I press a hand to my side, and come back with sticky fingers. His eyes pinch.

"You ripped your stitches." he says, as he slowly pulls back my hand so he can look at it himself.

My breath catches as he skims callused fingers over the wound, probing it for new tears. His rough hands are unexpectedly gentle. I wonder dazedly how a cop has such gentle hands.

"No shit Sherlock." I huff as he continues his examination. I should stop him, protest, do something, but he really looks like he knows what he is doing and I seem to be on the verge of passing out. What was I going to do, flail at him? Cause **that **is super threatening...

"Ms. Tucker," the sound is coupled with a soft shake to my shoulder and when I wake up again I am staring into baby blues eyes that are framed by blonde hair. Female, young, tanned... nurse, doctor, Sams' partner?

My question is answered as she smiles at me. "You passed out from blood loss Ms. Tucker. You ripped one of your stitches clean out, I wouldn't recommend you do that again." Her manicured hands reach up to turn down the morphine drip.

"Where's Sam?" Cotton ball mouth, gross.

"I'm sorry, who?"

"The police officer that was here, where did he go?"

"No one was here ma'am. Just me and Doctor Simmons." she says it slowly, like I am a pain addled patient. Okay so I am, but no way I imagined the whole exchange with that Sam guy.

I open my mouth to protest again as she turns with a huge, cheesy grin on her face.

"So you hungry?" she asks, clapping her hands together.

She looks much more surprised than Sam when I throw up all down her flowered scrubs.

It is two days before I am discharged from the hospital, two days that are spent drooling into my pillow and not really being told a damn thing. There are signs of a break-in at the house, evidence of a struggle, but no ones blood but my own litters the entryway, and Bailey has just vanished, there are no signs of her _anywhere._

The cops (none of them Sam) are sympathetic, some of them listen to my disjointed story telling, a couple of others who come imply without directly accusing that _I_ have done something to Bailey. Those are the ones that set my teeth on edge. And Sam, well he has vanished as well, nobody remembers a Goliath of a cop that came in to question me. Did I really hallucinate it all? Those tender fingers don't feel like something I would make up. And man Bails would have had the biggest crush on him. I just can't get in line with floppy hair, even though I have to admit he pulls it off.

I miss her. I feel pathetic doing it, but after the first day I call her cell phone just so I can hear the voicemail kick on.

Where in the world is she? And where do I go if I don't have any leads?

My heart is full of hopelessness as I slide in behind the wheel of my Toyota, my body in a tolerable amount of pain now at least. I have to fight a lump in my throat when "Don't Stop Believing." filters in through the speakers. Alright Journey, you had better be right.

My home looks ominous. Not really home anymore so much as a threatening prison. Brick and mortar suddenly twist into something heinous. I try to calm my racing heart and steady my hands as I reach to pull the keys out of the ignition. Something really bad had happened here. What, I don't really remember, but it is terrible...wings twisting out of the back of the horrible creature, rising up with talons locked around my sibling. I pant into the steering wheel and am apparently going crazy. I check the label on the pill bottle. Nope, no hallucinations about crazy, freaky ass bird things as a side effect. Damn, guess that is all me then.

It takes an extra couple of minutes to make my way up to the door as I shift my purse on my shoulder. Bailey isn't here, Bailey is out there somewhere, and she needs my help.

'_Just go home.' _the officer had said._'We'll call you if we find anything.'_

Bastard. I know deep down it isn't his fault that they haven't found anything, but my rage needs to be placed somewhere and he seems the most likely culprit. My hand shakes on the doorknob as I glance around one last time. A chill works its way all the way down to my toes. Everything is quiet, a little girl rides her bike a couple of houses down, my neighbors sit out on their porch swing and as I spy them they issue me a friendly wave. I wave back, knowing that something is out of place but I'm not sure what. One last scan of the street reveals nothing out of the ordinary other than an sleek, classic(by the looks of it) black car. I like the style and I wonder idly who the new tenants on the block are. There will be time for that after I find Bailey, time to tease her about boys and rent movies and continue on in life. There has to be. I feel tears well up in my eyes and I really don't want to have a breakdown in front of the whole neighborhood so I bury my dread and go inside. I still feel that uneasy feeling of being watched as I slide the deadbolt in place.

My dreams are full of restlessness and half-forgotten memories… male voices that seem vaguely familiar as I lay unconscious in a hospital bed.

"_She didn't tell me anything."_

"_I know dude, that's why we have to check out her place, see what we can find."_

"_The cops already searched top to bottom, they didn't find anything other than her blood."_

"_The cops don't know what to look for, we do."_

_A heavy sigh. "I'm telling you what I saw man. If it is what I think it is, we don't have a lot of time. Ritual comes up in nine days."_

"_All the more reason we should scope her casa, get more information."_

"_We know what happened Dean, now we just have to track it. And cops have been crawling all over that place...it's actually kinda weird."_

"_Why's that?"_

"_Because it's not marked off as a crime scene but there has been someone there almost 24/7 since the attack happened."_

"_Trying to cover something up?"_

"_I don't know, but I'll tell you what, something about this doesn't feel right."_

_A stretched out silence, broken by the sound of a hand thumping a shoulder. "Alright we'll keep an eye out, wait for something to go down, crack down on research. We really should wait till she wakes up to drill her though."_

"_She doesn't remember anything , post-traumatic stress disorder, we wouldn't get much out of her."_

"_Okay Sammy M.D. If you say so." a shuffle of feet and then nothing other than the soft sounds a hospital normally makes._

I wake with a quiet gasp my body tangled in the covers and I curse softly as I try to free them. Tears dry at my cheeks and I irritably wipe at them. No waterworks are going to get my sister back. I decide to retrace my steps, having come fresh from the dream world, to see if my subconscious has knocked anything useful loose. There is no way I am going back to sleep. Already I can't remember the names of the two gentlemen in my dream, their voices are fading to whispers as I become more and more awake.

"Dammit." I grumble, because I have a feeling that the unreachable information is important and I have no idea why.

My trek leads me to the dining room table,my hand traces old cuts and gouges in it. Familiar faces glow in my memories. God, I miss them. I shake my head and swipe at tears again. This isn't helping; I don't have time for this.

"What are we going to do tonight Kay?"

Baileys' voice makes my head shoot up, my eyes stare intently at the spot where she last sat. And suddenly I am pulled back in time, to that night…

'_I really need to get her off to bed' I think staring blearily at the digital display off to my right. 10:33pm, I'm not doing either of us any favors by being this run down._

"_**You **__are going to go to sleep." I state, dragging my body up from the table and trying not to think of happier times._

"_Me? You're the one who looks like she is going to fall over." She teases softly as she places her half-finished book onto the table._

"_Then we are both going to bed." I reply, reaching over to take her hand I flinch when a bolt of lightning lights up the living room…Illuminating a terrible being it's red eyes glinting with malice._

_My voice drops to a whisper and I duck my head down towards her. "Bailey, run." She doesn't need to be told twice as she slams back her chair and makes a mad dash for the stairs. _

_She doesn't make it. The creature jumps towards her and knocks her on her face. I dive for the nearest weapon, and have only a minute to react as my hand closes around a vase. I chuck it at the beasts figure._

_It turns on me, wings (wings?) outstretched, and it looks dark and terrible and is making my whole body shake with fear. But one look at Baileys' sprawled out form as she scrabbles to reach safety has something dark and terrible rising up in me as well._

_I dive for its legs as it turns towards my sister, and I manage to catch it off guard for a few seconds. I pray it will be enough. It shakes me off like I am nothing and sends me flying into a wall before it stalks back towards my sibling. "Bailey, RUN!" I yell this time, the scream rips from my throat. She stumbles to get back to her feet as I charge whatever the hell it was again, this time leaping up to grab it around its waist? I don't stop to check as I bite into soft flesh. The thing roars, and then sneers down at me as…_

_Agony tears through me, the only thing that anchors me to consciousness is my sister screaming "KAYLA!" it is the last thing I hear as I watch that abomination yank Bailey from the bottom of the stairwell and take off through the open skylight. I scream for my sister until I pass out._

My face presses into the table and hard, harsh gulps for air scurry past my throat. I sound like a dying animal and I try to calm myself, but the scream that has been trapped in my memories claws its way out of my stomach and echos in the empty house. I have just enough time to feel embarrassed about it before my front door flies open.

I don't see anything as I rush to the door and swing out in blind panic. Whatever it is blocks me as I swing again. There is a voice that tries to calm me down, a voice I know, but all I can think of is the stark terror on Baileys' face. Rage fuels my punches much more than professionalism or even skill, but I feel slightly proud as one of my frantic flailing hands connects with flesh and a "Son of a bitch!" Is bit off in front of me.

"Mckayla, stop!" The voice is authoritative and something in me responds to it. I blink slowly, as if coming out of a trance and try to focus on the face that is dimly revealed in the overhead kitchen light.

"Sam?" I ask puzzled as I drop my fists to the side. All the fight literally drains out of me. The victim of a nasty jab to the nose, evident from the thin line of red he wipes at, backs away from me and back towards Sam.

"Jeez lady, what the hell?" he grumbles as Sam pulls him up to examine the injury.

Yeah this isn't weird at all…

The other guy swats irritably at the hands that check his face muttering "Dude, back off. I'm fine."

Sam takes a few steps back, still hovering but less noticeable now. But the look of utter concern he graces the other individual with. Huh, he didn't give off a gay vibe before…

"Actually I think I have earned the right to that 'what the hell' as in, what the hell are you doing in my house?" I cross my arms over my chest, and fix them with a glare I hope is intimidating.

Sams' eyes do that soft, dewy thing again as I let out a soft sigh. "What are you doing here?" softer now, less like a dragon lady.

He shuts the splintered door behind him, (great one more thing to fix around here) and gestures towards the living room. "Mind if we come in?"

"Mind if I call the cops?" I retort before I remember ,chagrined, that this guy is a cop.

"Look I know you have to be completely freaked out, but we heard you scream and were just coming in to check on you, promise?" He holds both hands up in surrender and the other guy follows suit.

I turn about ten shades of red I'm sure and feel instantly stupid. "Oh that… I…" I look down towards the ground. "I was having a nightmare."

"Must have been some nightmare, sounded like you were being attacked." A flash of talons and pain and terror.

I let out a gasp and Sam instantly tenses up.

His eyes meet mine across the expanse of the table, apparently reading something in them.

"You remember?" he asks quietly and his partner moves to join him.

I shake my head. I feel slightly dizzy and sick, but yeah I remember.

"Whoopee for me." I say.

I take a deep swallow of the water glass in front of me, and tilt my head towards the pair of men at the other end of the table.

The shorter one has one of my dish towels pressed up against his face and I would apologize if I didn't have so much pressing into my head right now.

Sam treats me gently, guarded, like I am a trapped animal. I must look it, I think absently.

After I tell my tale and they still haven't said anything in response I blow out a dejected sigh.

"So you think I'm crazy," I start and weave a hand into my limp hair.

They lock gazes, a silent conversation carries on between the two of them. The intensity of their connection is a little overwhelming and I can feel myself flush.

"No Mckayla, we don't think you are crazy," That's Sam and as he moves to the side of the table, the shorter one stands to join him.

"We think you have a Tascona on your hands."

All I can mutter up in reply is a "Huh."

They talk about the creature, explaining it to a T, only takes virgins (so of course Bailey and not me), keeps natural disasters from the area, big, nasty, winged, harpy like things .

And when they are done I raise the bottle of vodka to my lips (with this sort of day I need something a little stronger than water) and it burns all the way down.

"Okay so this," I make a wide sweep with my hand, as Sam supplies.

"Tascona."

"Right Tascona, took my sister for some sort of virgin sacrifice in a ritual and flew away with her?"

A double nod of heads.

"Yeah that's about it." The other one states.

"So, you're as crazy as me, that's just great." Head meet table, table meet head.

Someone lets out an exasperated sigh and I can't quite tell if it is one of them or me.

"I know this is a lot to take, and believe me, we would take this from you if we could,"

I glance up at Sams' earnest voice.

"But you are the only one who has seen this thing and lived through one of its attacks. Please Mckayla," he sits down closer to me. "We need your help."

"Can you find Bailey?" my voice is tiny, barely more than a whisper.

"We are going to do everything we can to find your sister." Its' the other one again and he looks a shade softer as he steps behind Sam.

"Fine," I shove the vodka bottle into the middle of the table. "What can I do to help?"

What I can do, apparently, is go over the story again, and dissect every detail, and drive myself a little crazy in the process.

When I am done for the umpteenth time, after showing the pair of men the now faded and freshly scrubbed blood stains and the broken sunroof and the deep scratch along the railing of the stairs, I lower myself onto the worn sofa in the living room, and wince as it pulls at the tears on my side.

Sam looks like he wants to get up and check on me, but my eyes must have told him to stay away, because he settles back onto the arm on the adjacent recliner. Good, I had been manhandled enough in the last couple of days.

"Is your side still hurting?"

I wheeze out a laugh, "No, it's rainbows and butterflies." More pain, need to take some more pain killers.

Sam turn and whispers something to the other guy. All I catch is "wasn't that deep, should be healing," before he turns to me with a grave face.

Every one of my nerves stands on end as he approaches me, hands at his sides.

"I think it might be infected, can I take a look?" I want to tell him no, but my body feels uncomfortably warm and I am already leaning over in order to give him better access.

We hiss in unison when he lifts up the side of my shirt, and then says the other guy's name quietly as the man comes over to join us.

I feel a second hand on the injury as he states. "Poison."

"Yeah and it's been festering for a couple of days by the looks of it,"

"We need to clean that out fast Sam. Bitch really dug her claws in."

"Wait what?"I ask as bits of their conversation float down to my ears.

"Mckayla, listen, this thing, this,"

"Tocata?" I ask dazedly.

"Tascona, it poisoned you. It's slow working, but this thing doesn't leave any victims behind and the doctors at the hospital didn't know what to look for so they sent you home, I have to flush it out okay?"

"Flush it out….okay there is hydrogen peroxide in the upstairs bathroom," I begin and lift my suddenly shaky form from the couch.

I am stopped by an arm to my elbow.

"Not hydrogen peroxide,"

"I don't have anything else." I state dumbly.

There is a flash of silver as he pulls a flask from his jacket.

"We do."

I sit on the floor, not sure how I have gotten there, I am pretty sure that I saw the flash of metal and thought the flask was a gun. Sam is in my line of vision and he shakes my hand gently.

"Hey, you okay?"

I laugh, a choked sound protruding from my lips. Bailey is gone taken by some hell spawn, I am poisoned by said hell spawn and the two guys who broke into my house are taking care of me. Okay doesn't even begin to cover it.

Sam watches as my eyes nervously track the flask. He opens the lid and puts it under my nose.

"It's holy water, that's it, see?"

"Holy water?" I croak and look up at the other one and then back to Sam.

"Who the fuck are you guys?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N.: Thank you so, SO much to all who read/reviewed the last chapter. Here is Chapter 2, I hope you like it! Also I added in line breaks this time, please let me know if it reads better this way or without the breaks. Hope you are having a MARVELOUS Monday! Love to all of you!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the typos and the idea. :D**

**CHAPTER 2**

The answer it seems is that they are friends, although when the guy I now know as Dean Felder interrupts Sam from whatever he is originally going to say I think maybe Sam is more okay with their relationship than the blonde one. Their parents had both been attacked and killed when they were younger and they have spent their whole lives trying to track down and kill evil. Sounds like something from a T.V. Show…

Sam brings out a rather thick notebook and plops it down on the table as he flips to something that has Dean crowding around it as well.

I watch them warily as they both look up from the book.

"The cleansing ritual is pretty simple," Dean whispers to Sam, his head bowed again.

My side throbs again as a wave of fresh pain hits me in my gut.

"Simple for who?" I pant as the boys look up at me. It's almost like they forgot I am there.

"Mckayla, we can do this, but we are going to have to get at the **whole **wound," Sam states, but he can't quite meet my eyes as he says this and when I have a coherent second to think about it I know why. The scratches are all the way up to my shoulder, reaching just under the curve of my bra.

"Kayla," I say quietly never really liking my full name.

"What?"

"We are going to be up close and personal in just a few minutes, you can call me Kayla."

When he smiles at me I have a hard time believing he would ever be capable of killing something.

"Let's get to it then." Dean on the other hand is hard and chiseled and looks like he's dangerous.

I nod my head in agreement. "Let's."

When Sam asks where I want to do it I can't help but laugh and the red that reaches up to his cheeks is totally worth it. Not to mention the look his partner gives him.

I strip my shirt and my bra off, but am still holding a towel to my chest. No way was I just going to lay there topless, Sam looks relieved, and Dean looks disappointed. I guess opposites really do attract…

"Kayla, this is," Sam breaks off looking to Dean and then back to me. "It's not going to be pleasant but it will be over soon so just try to hang on."

I hug the towel closer to my chest and grit out. "Oh yeah, because being filleted was _super _fun."

Dean chuckles and then he is sitting by my side, his flannel shirt swinging close to my nose. I can feel Sam at my back as Dean flips open the journal. My brain turns into mush again. Man, I can't wait till my thoughts don't have a waiting period on them. They seem to be waiting for me; I can feel the stares. I nod once, curtly. It's time.

So the Latin part isn't so bad. At least I think its Latin, sounds like Latin, even though Dean stumbles over the words and I have an odd thought that maybe Sam would know them better. I wonder if Sam is gentle in everything he does, I will have to ask Dean when all this is over.

The fizz from the water as it hits my flesh is weird, but not uncomfortable and I ponder why Sam made such a big deal out of it. And then it hits me, not white hot pain, but blackness that spears across my vision. The murmurs of Latin rise in volume and my whole side is drenched in the stuff now. And _God _it hurts so bad I feel like I'm tearing apart as my hands fly out and brace the nearest solid object. I don't know if it's Sam or Dean, but really who the hell cares as a growl yanks up from my throat. I think I can hear that it's almost over from somewhere, but all I can feel is the fire burning in my bones, and my fingernails as they bite into my palm through fabric.

And then suddenly it's done, my body heaves with tension, my hair plasters to my face with sweat and my breath saws out of me in shudders. I can hear Sam move away from me and the alert part of me registers that the slow, ooze of pain that I had originally misdiagnosed as infection is no longer there, leaving a dull ache in its place.

"Did it work?" My eyes rise to Sam's' face, his warm and smiling face.

"Yeah, you're in the clear. Ritual worked, they're closing up already."

I return the smile and nod my head at him. "Thanks."

"Uh," Dean coughs from my side and I swivel back to look at him. "Glad we are all okay, but do you think I could have my shirt back?" he gestures to my hand still buried into the flannel.

I let go with a soft. "Sorry."

Dean smoothes his shirt back out and shrugs with one shoulder. "No big deal."

I stand and gather the towel around my side and turn back to the guys. "So...pizza?" I ask, clapping my hands together.

Dean beams and Sam nods. "Pizza."

* * *

><p>I shouldn't be able to enjoy the melting cheese and piping hot pepperoni as much I do with Bailey missing, but I'm ashamed to say that I do. It is the best damn thing I have ever put in my mouth and considering my love of food, that is saying something.<p>

Sam chews off a corner of his as he flips through a couple of pages of his worn book. He looks completely absorbed in research, only half paying attention to what he is eating.

Dean and I however, look like we are having a religious experience with our food. It makes me like him a little bit, even if I am still wary of him.

Sam looks a little bit uncomfortable as he shifts his gaze from me, to the food, to the journal to his companion. I wonder how often they have eaten in a house.

"So," I start, breaking the silence and Dean looks absolutely bereft at having to divide his attention. Amusement tweaks mine and Sam's lips at the sight.

"You guys want to clue me in as to what we do now?"

They look between them, secretly communicating again. It bugs the hell out of me this time. "Don't even think about lying to me either." I say, hopefully slicing them with my intimidating stare. I hope it works through glasses.

Sam opens his mouth as he tries to decide what to say. Dean saves him the trouble and speaks up first.

"Now we go and find the thing that took your sister, kill it, and bring her back to you."

"Great, when do we leave?"

"No, not _we _sweetheart. Me and Sam."

"Like hell!" I shout as I leap to my feet. "And don't call me sweetheart."

Sam moves in my direction. "Kayla, we can't take you with us, it's not safe. Dean and I will bring her back to you, I promise."

Dean nods silently besides him.

"I don't give a shit if it isn't safe!" I rage as I slam my fists into the wooden top of my table. "That thing took _my_ sister, mine! You aren't going to bring her back, I am!" Both boys flinch as I pound the wood once more.

"Look Kayla, I don't think you get it. This isn't going to be a cat fight or a quick throw down, this thing is lethal and you," Dean pauses as he looks me over. "You don't strike me as the killer type."

Something in me hardens, something in me roars, if this thing took Bailey, oh yeah I could kill it, no problem.

My voice shakes with barely controlled emotion. "It's just us okay. My parents, they died six months ago, so it's just us."

Something stirs in both of their eyes, Sam's looks like a lost puppy, Dean, the ice in the hazel thaws a tiny bit.

"Look I was supposed to look after her, and I _need _to bring her back," my voice starts to crack and breaks on the word. "Please."

I don't know who they have lost, but I recognize the look of raw grief as they exchange looks again, seemingly having a whole conversation with just their eyes. I don't think I will ever find someone who loves me that much.

"What if we say no?" Dean asks.

"Then I follow you anyway."

"We will knock you out, leave you here." he supplies.

"I'll call the cops, get an APB out you, and you should be warned, I have a great memory, I won't forget anything about you guys." I really don't want to have to threaten them, but I am desperate.

"Dean, we really don't need any more trouble,"

"I know Sam." Dean growls.

He lets out a long suffering sigh and runs a hand over his face.

"If you are going to be a part of this, you do what I say, when I say it, got it?" There is a finger jabbed in my direction and his face is stony as he speaks.

I look up and meet his eyes, hoping I am portraying gratitude as I speak. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." He grumbles.

There isn't a whole lot left to say as I sit back down again. Sam and Dean both look antsy and I can tell they are waiting for some sign from me that it is okay to leave, more out of consideration than respect. Dean gives an exaggerated yawn and claims "Sure is getting late." before he slugs Sam next to him.

"Oh yeah," he joins in. "Better head out soon."

I have had several years of getting good at reading bullshit, and another year to perfect calling people out on it. So I manage not to roll my eyes as I say dryly.

"No one is keeping you here."

Wow, I didn't know anybody could move that fast.

"Well we will be back in the morning," Dean starts, his body practically humming with the want to move.

Where the heck are they running off too anyway? How do I know they will be back?

"Wait a minute," I say as I get up and reach a hand to clasp onto Deans' jacket.

He looks the picture of innocence as he quirks an eyebrow at me. "What is it?"

"Give me your number." I order,

"Kayla, I'm just not that kind of girl." he retorts as Sam snorts off to the side.

"I'm not kidding, give it to me." I know I am being intense, but I need some sort of reassurance that the only lead I have on Bailey isn't going to vanish into thin air.

"Jeez Sammy, you sure know how to pick them." he grumbles to his partner as I tighten my grip onto his jacket.

"Dean," It's a warning, I will stalk them if need-be.

Sam scrawls hastily on a piece of paper before he shoves it at Dean.

"Just give it to her man." he mutters.

"Dude!" he begins as I grab the paper from his hand.

"Talk to you guys tomorrow!" I call out.

Sam nods towards me and Dean grumbles something not very nice under his breath.

I take out my phone and punch in the numbers quickly before watching with a smirk as Dean glares at his own cell.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" I ask, smiling sweetly towards him.

Dean shoots me a very distinct 'Go to hell' look as he flips the phone open and issues a terse. "Hello?"

"Oh hey Dean," I say cheerily. "It's me Mckayla, and if you don't come back for me in the morning I will call...and call, and call. At all hours of the night, and sure maybe you can turn it off for a day, or two, but I'm guessing in your line of work you can't afford much more than that. So consider you, stuck with me." I close my phone with an air of triumph, watching as Deans' jaw clenches; Sam's' face is a mixture of annoyance and looking like he wants to laugh. I really like it when I win.

* * *

><p>I fall asleep in the shower. After Sam and Dean have left, and Sam has given me his number (I don't have to force it out of him) I dead bolt the door and damn near drop to the floor in exhaustion. My cell phone blinks back 3am and I am <em>tired<em>. So when I wake up in the shower, shivering against the cold spray of water that pelts my face, I'm not all that surprised. I don't even try to make it up to my bed I just snag the robe from the hook and slip it on before sinking back down into the tub. It's not too bad with no freezing water splashing me in the face.

My back is incredibly stiff when I come to and stretch out into a damp robe. The clock over the toilet bowl reads 7:12am. Awesome, four hours of sleep, new record. Rest hasn't come easy since Mom and Dad...no, I don't have time for that. Not now. I pull myself out the tub, groaning as the ache from my side protests. It's better than bleeding to death though. I really would need to find a way to thank Sam and Dean for saving my life.

My reflection in the mirror looks gaunt and wrecked, my auburn hair limp around my hazel eyes. And my face is so pale the splatter of freckles on it looks almost black. I snatch my glasses from the rim of the sink and place them onto the bridge of my nose before I turn to the side. I was never a skinny minney, but weeks of not eating very much has caused a dip in my stomach. Something I would be otherwise proud of if not for it being one more thing grief has stolen from me.

I get dressed hastily, throwing on jeans and a green tank top before I yank my hair into a ponytail. I don't really know what I will need in the next couple of days so I throw a weeks' worth of clothes, books, pens, paper, and all the money I have into a suitcase. Next I raid the kitchen and toss every knife I can find into it. Then I stare at my phone for a good ten minutes, willing it to ring. At 8:01 my patience runs out and I flip open my phone to the last dialed number.

"Yeah?" The voice that answers is groggy.

"Um...Dean?"

A bit off curse at my inquiry and then a shuffle of sound as the phone is handed off to someone else.

"Hello?" A softer voice this time, Sam.

"Hey Sam, it's me."

"Kayla, hey."

"Look sorry I didn't mean to wake you guys up I just, I need to _do_ something." I voice. Patience has never been my strong point.

He chuckles on the other end before he states. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

"Good, where are you guys staying? I'll come meet you."

That has Sam sputtering nervously into the phone. "No, that's okay, we'll come over to you."

Another muffled curse and the next voice I hear is gruff and more than a little perturbed. "We're at the Hoedown Inn, room 108, bring donuts." the line goes dead and I try not to laugh. I guess Dean isn't a morning person.

The greeting I receive at the door isn't much better as Dean scratches the back of his head and takes the donuts from me with a tilt of his head that I take to mean come in.

Sam ceases his almost frantic attempt at trying to make the room presentable and gives a wave of one hand. Really the Hoedown Inn is such a hole in the wall I am surprised he even bothers, although if you are staying in town on a budget it's the best place to be.I hand over the coffee to Dean having gotten a text almost immediately after he hung up on me to bring a coffee too. Another five seconds and I had a second request for tea.

"Thanks for bringing breakfast." Sam says accepting the tea with a grin.

Dean gives a quick nod of his head as he takes a long swig from the Styrofoam cup.

"You're welcome. Thanks for not skipping town."

Dean takes a bite from a jelly donut before looking up at me with half-awake eyes.

"Lady, don't you ever sleep?" he grouses around a mouthful of food.

"Not really." I say with a shrug. He makes a "Hmm." face and keeps on eating.

Sam looks up from his laptop like he wants to say something, but then he just ducks his head back down.

"What?" I asked.

He looks between Dean and me, shaking his head softly.

"Just weird I guess."

"What?"

"Not used to having other people around."

The admission is quiet and Dean turns towards it.

I don't speak up again until breakfast is over after I choke down a cinnamon roll myself. And really part of it is because the shallower part of me has finally realized how stunning these two really are.

Sam is tall with broad shoulders, green eyes and a smile that (no pun intended) lights up a room, and Dean, well Dean is a couple of inches shorter than Sam, body lithe with lethal grace, hazel eyes, and I notice with a snort, a smattering of freckles across his nose. Both of these men look like they have been yanked straight out of a men's modeling magazine. Thank God they are gay; I don't think I could handle being seriously interested in one of them.

"What's next?" I ask as Sam instantly stills his hand. He makes notes in the same book I saw him with last night.

"Now we let Sammy do his thing." Dean says, passing Sam with a thunk to his shoulder.

Sam nods in response.

"And his thing would be?"

"Research. Until we have a lead to where this nasty son of a bitch got to, we do research."

Dean heads towards the bathroom change of clothes in hand. The door closes with a soft click and I scoot in closer to Sam.

"What can I do to help?"

Sam looks up from his book as he scrunches his eyes together in concentration.

"Um, I guess search the web. Some stuff is reliable and some stuff is bull, but it's all we have."

"How will I know what is what?" I reply, reaching for the laptop.

"I guess ask me."

"Wouldn't it be easier for you to surf the web and me to check out the journal?" I ask it to save time, but Sam's' face darkens as he slams the book shut.

"No." Resolute, no room for argument.

I back away from him just a bit at that. "Sorry."

Sam sighs. "No. I'm sorry it's just..."

"Sometimes I can be really pushy,"

"It's my Dad's." and the way he says it tells me everything I need to know. He is gone, that is who Sam has lost.

My hand moves to cover his lightly, not romantic, just empathetic.

"Sam, I'm sorry." And dammit if he doesn't turn those puppy dog eyes towards me.

I move my hand to grab the computer as I swing it around towards me.

"Let's get cracking."

My eyes start to burn as I question Sam for what feels like the hundredth time the validity of a site. So far I know the color of this thing (reddish-black) that it has poisoned talons, it is the spawn of a demon and a harpy (demons get bored I guess), and that it feasts on the flesh of virgins in exchange for protection again natural disasters. I feel about seven kinds of crazy right now.

"It'd have to be kept somewhere with quite a bit of space." Sam muses to my left.

"Jeez you think?" Dean shoots from the couch.

Sam rolls his eyes in response and I can tell Dean is getting restless.

"What would you usually be doing now?" I ask just to clear the tension in the room.

Dean leans up from the sofa at that.

"Questioning witnesses, looking around town, but there isn't much town to look at and well as far as witnesses go, you're all we got sister." he grins before disappearing again.

And they are all I've got. It hits me with a twinge of regret.

"What made you guys come here anyway? Why were you even in the area?"

"Succubus in Santa Fe." they answer in unison.

Succubus, of course. Why didn't I think of that?

Dean suddenly shoots up from the couch. "Man, I'm going stir crazy sitting here." He grumbles.

I am a little bit too.

Sam states. "Me too."

Dean grabs keys out of his jacket and turns towards the two of us with a smile.

"What do you say we go for a drive?"

* * *

><p>The classic black car I saw the other day turns out to be 67' Impala and Dean runs a hand along it slowly as he murmurs "Hey baby." When I go to get in the car he says. "Don't you have your own?" and Sam elbows him in the side. I'm not worried about him being rude to me; I'm worried about them taking off.<p>

Begrudgingly, and with a little coaxing from Sam, I end up in the back seat, not missing that Dean cranks the music up almost simultaneously with the engine. Classic rock blasts through the speakers as I smile to myself. At least he has good taste in music, Sam looks like he's sucking on a lemon and I can tell he doesn't love it as much as his friend. When the chorus kicks in I belt it out, having drifted into some sort of daydream, Dean surprises me by laughing and then states loud enough so I can hear. "Well at least she has good taste in music!" to his partner beside him.

The drive ends up being a waste, we grab tacos from the taco bell by the mall and scan all the bigger buildings in the area, all of them sadly populated and the whole time I think of Bailey. Everything in town has a memory with her attached to it. When we end up back at the run down motel I have a hard time even getting out of the car, it's only 6pm and yet my whole body is rigid with exhaustion. I trudge behind Sam and Dean as they go over the information we've gathered, Sam says something that makes Dean laugh and I watch as his whole body releases tension. God, what have these guys seen that makes them stand like soldiers?

Sometime later Sam groans from behind his laptop. "There is nothing useful on this!" and shoves it away from him in frustration.

Dean nurses a beer and looks up from behind his book. "Giving up nerdboy?"

"Shut up Dean." He grumbles without heat, a long sigh pouring from his mouth as he pulls the laptop back to him.

I personally am starting to see double as I scrub at my eyes. It's only 7pm; we're in for a looooong night...

I must have dozed off because the next thing I remember is waking up to cheap grain biting into my face and a hushed discussion going on somewhere in the room.

"Look man, I know it seems cold, but we just need to do it."

"Just leave her here; she hasn't done anything to deserve that Dean."

"It's better than taking her with us. She's going to get herself killed Sam. She isn't a hunter and I don't have time to watch her back and ours," he's frustrated, pacing in the small space.

"Her sister is missing, you saw her, she's not going to give up."

"So the worst that is going to happen is annoying phone calls for a couple of days at least her blood won't be on our hands!" he growls.

"So we train her, get her ready to fight, she said she would report us to the cops Dean and we really do **not** need that after St. Louis."

"Train her?" A hushed scoff. " You looking for a third member of the team Sammy?" Bitterness, insecurity in every word.

A soft exhale of breath. "No man, that's not what I meant. I just..." a shuffle of feet. "I feel for her."

"Yeah," a hand tapping a side. "I know."

Fatigue pulls me under again, no matter how much fear I have that they would leave me; my body is finally putting up a fight. I need sleep.

A palm pats my face as I blink into awareness. Anguish chases me up from my dreams as I peer up at my visitor. Dull hazel meets my gaze. What am I doing here? What did I do to deserve this? The hazel softens something close to compassion in them.

"Sorry, you were...uh..." he looks embarrassed as I rub at my damp cheeks.

"I'm fine." I say, but my voice is cracked and worn.

Dean looks like he understands.

"What time is it?" I rasp as Dean tilts his watch towards his face.

"Almost midnight."

"What's going on? What have you guys learned?"

He releases a groan. "A whole lot of nothing."

Sam is suddenly there too. "Maybe you should just go home, come back in the morning, we'll start fresh."

They look as run down as I feel.

I nod my head. "Yeah, yeah okay." and lift my frame from the chair.

Bleary eyes, tired body, broken heart.

"We'll see you in the morning?" Dean asks as he walks me to the door.

I look around their meager surroundings, the Hoedown inn really doesn't take care of its rooms and I shuddered just thinking about what sort of shit they were sleeping on top of. I have a sneaking suspicion that life doesn't hand them any breaks. One more thing we have in common...as of late anyway.

I turn to them, knowing what I am about to suggest is a little bit crazy, but I'd always had a bleeding heart for strays.

"Why don't you guys stay at my house?"

An exchange of confused looks and then Sam speaks first.

"Kayla, that's really nice, but we can't,"

"Sure you can, there's plenty of room, central air, cable, oh and I can cook!" the idea is growing on me by the second, the isolation of being alone has been driving me a mite insane.

"We have a sweet setup here, but thanks for the offer." Dean again.

"Sweet setup? You have a rundown motel and bed sheets with more STDs' than Paris Hilton."

Sam chuckles a little at that one.

"You don't have to; I just thought you could use the change of scenery. Saves you some money too."

Clash of hazel and green, I can hear the "thanks but no thanks" with no mouths saying it.

I turn to leave, startled when a hand reaches out and grabs my arm.

Hazel pools of pride, submitting for the sake of his partner.

"Do you mean it?" he asks.

"Every word."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch."

"It's a bit too good to be true. What do you get out of it?" Wariness is etched into his face.

"My sister if all goes according to plan." There, that's it. Please come...please.

He nods to Sam and Sam instantly starts shoving his possessions into his duffel bag.

Dean smirks at me." Alright then, lead the way."


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N.: Hey, would you look at that, it's chapter 3! I hope all of you who are reading this tale enjoy this chapter. More snarky Kayla so YAY! Plus hot Winchester boys whoo hoo! Thanks as always for reading and reviewing, it makes my day, no forget that, my week! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it.**

**CHAPTER 3**

"Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge, I'd be lying if I said it was fully stocked, I've been a bit preoccupied as of late." I stop rambling long enough to wave my hand toward the stairs. "Guest room is up the stairs and to the left, master bedroom is second door to the right if you guys want separate rooms, bathroom down the hall, sofa is comfy, just, um...make yourselves at home." I rush through the list of need to know information, hearing the siren call of my bed even from the doorway.

Sam and Dean look like they are in awe as they drop their stuff by the door.

"Guys I would stay and give you the grand tour, but I am dead on my feet and I need at least another four hours before I am any good to anyone."

I surprise myself by leaning in and giving them both an awkward hug.

"Thanks again for coming." I reply pulling back with an uneasy chuckle.

They both mumble "Yeah, no problem." before lifting their bags and strolling into the living room.

They are just standing in the middle of the room by the time I reach the top of the stairs. They cast their gazes around and look like they are ready to break out all their gear again.

"You guys better get some shut eye too." I say with a yawn.

I look down at them as they both kick off their shoes.

"Please don't leave." I utter said with sadness and deep rooted fear.

The smile Dean throws up at me is not unkind as he calls out. "Night Kayla, we'll see you in the morning."

The last thing I hear before I drift into oblivion is the slight creak of the floorboards. I smile into my pillow, happy that Sam and Dean will be making good use of the spare rooms.

I wake up just in time to see the sun peak over the horizon by a loud growling in my stomach. Hunger is something else that has just now caught up with me and my whole body is starting to act normal again. New day, new attitude, it's a mantra I have tried to live my whole life by and have given up on as of late. Time for second chances.

Eggs, bacon, toast, OJ. Forget pizza, _this _is the best thing I have ever had in my mouth. I don't even notice when Dean comes down the stairs, he does it so quietly. I gasp, sucking the eggs into my mouth and start to choke on the bits. "Jesus." I hiss as Dean looks up at me.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." It's mumbled and I know yet again how much of a morning person he isn't.

"Scare me?" I scoff. "Oh no, I'm _totally_ used to having guys in my house that don't make any noise." I chortle a little bit as I say it and Dean laughs softly.

"Guess things have gotten topsy turvy for you recently."

I shrug with a nod. That's an understatement.

Dean looks at my plate of food and tries to feign disinterest.

"You hungry?" I ask as I get up to put my plate in the dishwasher.

He doesn't answer and I turn to watch him track my movement with his eyes, I can't tell if he is wary or appreciative of my figure. I gesture to the spread of food.

"We got eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice; I can fry up some sausage if you want."

"No, this is fine, this is," he's already snagged a plate and is loading it up. He faces me with a huge grin.

"Great." He eats so fast, I can't even be sure that he swallows and then he goes back for seconds. His body must be speaking up as well.

"Should I make some more for Sam?" I ask as I take his empty plate from in front of him.

"Sam will eat the eggs, but he's not much of a bacon person." He replies in between bites.

"Who the hell doesn't like bacon?" I inquire.

He laughs again and every time he does it, it sounds less forced.

"Yeah, he's a bit of a freak." he says it fondly and I wonder how often he shows this side to Sam.

"So, what does he like?"

"Fruit, um...he'll eat the toast and eggs, but the guy loves his watermelon."

"Bailey too." I say quietly as I pull the plastic tray brimming with the fruit from the refrigerator.

Dean looks like he doesn't know what to say. He is saved the trouble of having to figure it out when Sam comes loping down the steps.

"Morning sunshine! There's breakfast." Dean says aimed at Sam.

He turns towards Dean with a grin.

"Breakfast?" he asks, looking like a little kid as he looks at the spread on the kitchen pilot.

"Breakfast." Dean confirms, lifting his glass of OJ in a toast.

Sam doesn't consume nearly as much as his buddy, eating a few pieces of toast as he happily munches on the watermelon. He picks at his eggs and requests apple instead of orange juice. It's funny how out of place they both look here, in this home environment, surrounded by kindness.

"Who wants first shower?" I ask after the comfortable silence stretches into awkwardness.

Dean looks at Sam, Sam looks at Dean, and then they both look at me.

"Okay then, be right out."

The shower helps clear away the last fuzzy fragments of my mind. Between food, and sleep and now a hot shower I start to feel human again. More than I have in a long time. I take a quick one, as I always have, getting dressed in a rush and running over all the facts again in my head and Sam's' voice ringing in my head '_It'd have to be kept somewhere with quite a bit of space.' _But something nags at the back of my mind; this is something I should know. But the more I try to grasp at it the farther away it feels.

When I come down to the living room again, Dean is sprawled out on the sofa as he idly flips through the channels and Sam is rummaging through my cabinets. I can read the exact second they know I am there, both of their bodies going on alert.

"So," I call. "I forgot to ask how you guys slept."

"Good." they answer in unison. Do they have to practice doing that? Or does it just come naturally?

"Better than we have in a good long while, actually." Dean says.

"What are you looking for?" Sam looks like a kid with his hand caught in a cookie jar.

"Uh...salt."

"Salt?"

"Yeah, it's like acid to supernatural beings."

"Salt?" Really, salt?

"We had to use ketchup once in a pitch, but it didn't do anything. It was just sticky." Deans voices from behind me, when the hell did he move into the kitchen?

I jump in response.

Sam chuckles.

"Well," I start, wringing the water from my hair. "Shower's open."

Dean follows my body with his gaze and I can't help but notice that Sam watches him. I can't read the brunettes expression. Worry? Jealousy? Unrequited love maybe? His eyes flicker through a myriad of feeling before his gaze shifts away. Dean is completely oblivious as he smacks a hand into Sam's' stomach. "Go ahead sasquatch. I'll grab the next one."

Sam's face pulls into a grimace at the nickname and then he nods once and goes up the stairs. Hell if I know what is going on between the two of them.

"Sasquatch," I say finally. "That's cute. Does he have a nickname for you?"

Deans' face fights between deflection and trust. After a few tense seconds he says. "Mostly he calls me jerk."

I nod at him, feeling like there is more to the story, but the look on Deans' face... I don't have the heart to ask.

When Sam comes back down the stairs, he has a book perched in his hands and looks deep in thought. Dean doesn't even look at him as he jogs up the steps.

"Find anything?" I question as he swings a chair around with one foot and seats himself on it.

"Nothing new, I just have a feeling like we missed something..." he breaks off, chewing on his bottom lip. The gesture is really adorable, and who needs a puppy when you have Sam? I try not to laugh at the mental image that conjures in my mind.

"We'll figure it out Sam." I give his shoulder a reassuring pat and when he looks up at me it takes him a second to realize he is expecting a different pair of hazel.

I move my hand just as suddenly feeling like I have intruded on something special.

"I'm...uh... going to make sure Dean doesn't need clean towels." I stutter over my words and fly up the stairs before he has a chance to respond.

It turns out Dean doesn't need a clean towel as he emerges from the bathroom with only said towel covering him.

I gulp, heat instantly rushing to my face. My god this man is attractive.

Dean smiles at me for just a minute, joking. "Perfect timing."

"Haha. I was just..." _don'tlookdon'tdon'tlook_. "Coming to see if you needed more towels."

"That's what they all say." he smirks at me and I think that I desperately need to get out of that hallway.

"Guess you are good then." I all but squeak before rushing into my room. When I come back out Dean is fully clothed, standing outside my door, his hand raised in what I assume is the 'knocking' position.

"Hey, Sam said he thinks he might have something, but he needs your help."

"Sure." I close the door and hurry down the stairs.

"Okay so I've been checking out the inventory of abandoned buildings here in Clovis and while there isn't much to go on, I don't know the town as well as you."

I peer over his shoulder, scanning the list of buildings and suddenly some of the unreachable information in my mind clicks into place.

"There." I point to the building labeled Hotel Clovis.

"It was built in 1931, the tallest building in Clovis, vacant for the last thirty odd years." Sam lists off the facts on the website.

"So what's in it now?" Damn, how did he always end up behind me?

"Homeless people and vandals." I retort, turning so they are both in my line of vision.

"Awesome. So what makes you think it's there?" he sits next to Sam.

"It's the only building big enough to house what we are after, and the new governor recently flushed it out completely, talking about keeping a clean community and protecting our landmarks."

Sam nods. "Yeah, I read an article on that just a little while ago, she's right Dean, it fits." his whole fact lights up and I have the distinct impression that he was a teacher's pet in another life.

I jab the picture on the screen with a finger. "_That _is where the bitch is."

Dean is smiling too. "I think its hunting season."

They start organizing weapons on the table as I pull one of the longer knives from my suitcase. Dean eyes it with disapproval.

"What?" I question rankled.

"What the hell are you doing carting around a steak knife?"

"Sorry hotshot, not all of us own guns. This is all I have."

Confusion gives way to understanding, before finally being replaced with anger.

"You're not going with us Kayla." End of discussion.

"Excuse me?" Two could play this game.

Sam looks nervous and Dean slams the gun down on the table before he whirls on me.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 23." I throw out. "How old are you? What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm 27 and I've been doing this since I was four. Four! You know how to shoot a gun? You ever killed anything before?"

"No I haven't but,"

"So you leave it to the professionals, you don't go after a monster with Ginsu knife!" his face turns red with rage.

"That's all I have!" I scream back, taking several steps in his direction. "Maybe it's not as fucking effective as your," a flail of hands to the spread of weaponry around me. "Whatever the hell you have."

"That's because _we_ know what the hell we are doing. _You _are going to get yourself killed!" Those eyes are really not all that stunning when they are sparked with disdain.

Sam gets between us, shuffling his seething friend away from me and vice versa.

"Let's just all calm down." He states in a placating tone. "Kayla, Dean is right if you don't know what you are doing you could get seriously hurt. We do know what we are doing; you can trust us to take care of this."

"I'm sorry, no. Look I really appreciate all you have done, but I can't just sit back while the only family I have left is in trouble. I just can't."

There is it again, the flicker of understanding, compassion brimming from both of their eyes. A silent agreement as Dean clenches his jaw, Sam turns towards me, gun in hand. For about a split second I think that maybe this isn't going to turn out that well for me and then he grips my hand and pulls up to plop the gun in it. Now I'm the one who is confused.

"What?"

"We can't go in until nightfall."

I'm still staring at the gun like I can't quite piece together what he is trying to tell me.

"This isn't Lord of the Rings; you aren't going to kill the fugly by good intentions alone." Dean grumbles.

And now I get it.

"But I don't know how to shoot a gun." my voice is small and nervous.

Dean smiles grimly at me. "That's what we're here for."

* * *

><p>I try to compare the gun in my hand to something I have done before. Laser tag, paintball maybe? It seems like a ridiculous match up. Nothing has ever felt like the cold slick metal in my hand. Like steel death itself. However it turns out the greatness of the weapon is not reflected in its handler, because I miss every time I fire it.<p>

I discover there is a small shooting range on the outskirts of Clovis and Dean and Sam follow me in the Impala out there. It's not much to look at but it's better than practicing shooting out in my backyard. Sam starts coaching me and try as I might; I flinch every time I pull the damn trigger. When aiming for the head, I'd get a shoulder, aiming for a leg, I'd catch the gut, I hate to think it but Dean might be right. I am terrible. Sam is patience and guides me with verbal cues to change my stance, lower my arm, and close one eye. Nothing works, I'm not able to concentrate and the thunderous boom that sounds every time I pull the trigger unnerves me almost as much as the kick of the gun itself. It isn't even a big gun, nothing like a shotgun or a rifle.

A hand jerks me backwards and pulls me up against a solid wall of muscle. I crane my head to glare at Sam and stop short. Dean. He positions my body against his, kicks my feet apart and aims the gun for me. Sam is off to the side, looking entertained as I pretty much become Deans' puppet.

"You don't start getting better soon and you're not coming." he says it low so only I can hear and I feel a protest rise up in me.

"I'm doing the best I can." I whisper harshly.

"Bullshit." he whispers back as he tightens his fingers around mine. Another tug and the trigger will go off again.

"Well then what the hell do you suggest oh wise one?" I'm annoyed at his smugness.

"You gotta get mad."

Well, that was the last thing I expected him to say. "Beg pardon?"

"You know pissed."

I blow out an exasperated breath. "And how exactly is that going to help me, I'm already mad and the madder I get the more I lose my focus."

"No, you're annoyed, fine I get that. But you have to get mad; I'm talking seeing nothing but rojo furious."

His voice is soft this time, and I can tell he is instructing me from experience.

Mad...Okay I can do that.

I level the gun at the cardboard cutout and take aim right between the eyes.

My parents are dead, taken from me by booze and stupidity. Ripped from this world by a two ton metal monster. _Pop!_

The first person I ever really loved betrayed be, threw me to the cold because it was easier than fighting for me. _Bang!_

Bailey is gone, the only family I have left taken by some demonic bitch that sliced me open in the process. _Boom!_

When the red haze clears from my vision I can see I have hit the space between the eyes all three times.

"Good job." He murmurs by my ear accompanied with a pat to my shoulder before the presence behind me is gone.

When I can compose myself enough to turn and meet them I swear they look proud.

We stop by Wal-Mart before heading back to the house, the guys' state they need to pick up a few things; I nod and tell them I will see them back at the house. It's not easy, but they have shown trust in me, it's time I return the favor.

When they come back they plant a black ski mask in front of me and I look at them like they are crazy.

"What's this for?"

"We are breaking and entering tonight, got to look the part." Dean says.

Duh. I would have so never been able to pull this off without them.

"You guys do this sort of thing a lot?"

Sam looks uneasy, but nods. "Comes with the territory." he says.

It's 3pm, about the time I would be getting off of work. I wonder how everyone there is doing with a wistful sigh.

Almost like they have read my mind (or maybe I said it out loud) Sam asks. "So nobody at work is missing you?"

Dean looks surprised like he's forgotten that other people have jobs.

"I took some time off." I say quietly.

"Six months?" simultaneous again, is there a script somewhere? I ponder for a minute how they even know that about me before deciding I really don't want to know.

"No not six months, two weeks for the funeral and then I went back."

"So why are you off now?" Dean asks as he lays his Wal-Mart bag on the table.

"Had a breakdown." I say matter of factly. "Was told I needed to take some time off."

They look like they can sympathize.

We've gone over the plan a dozen times now, it's systematic and organized and they both seem completely in their element.

I'm so in over my head. But Bailey needs me, so I suck it up and trudge on.

Around six pm. tactics are halted when Deans (or maybe my stomach) lets out a loud growl. He looks up sheepishly as he pushes away from the table.

"I'm gonna go grab some food, I'll be right back." He says, snagging the keys from the kitchen counter.

"I can cook." I speak up, driven by the need to do something other than sit here and begin to panic.

He turns back towards me. "You don't have to."

"I don't mind." and I really don't, already getting up to grab a frying pan and turning towards them with a smile.

"Any requests?"

I raid the freezer. Chicken, steaks, ribs, how had I not realized that there was so much food in here? Was I that far gone? Bailey and I ate out almost every day, money wasn't an issue, giving a damn was.

If... no, not if, _when_ she got back I was going to make good use of my cooking skills once more.

I ramble off the list of food we have available and watch Deans' mouth water. When I get to ground beef he speaks up. "Do you have bacon?"

"Yeah, there are still leftovers from breakfast."

"There's my vote bacon cheeseburgers, how bout you Sammy?"

Sam looks up with a shrug, "I'm fine with whatever."

"Burgers it is then."

The burgers are good, really good, juicy and filling and Dean has had two already and suddenly starts to complain that his stomach is hurting. Sam makes some sort of joke about does he need Pepto and Dean grumbles. "You're such a bitch." the response to that is "Takes one to know one, jerk."

Oh so that's what it's all about...

It seems so familiar having people around the table, although I am used to talking about school and boys and TV shows, not loading guns across the food. But I have to admit it's nice. I'm smiling as I clear off the table, swiping a chip from a bag and chewing it happily. If I could just plop Bailey in the middle of this everything would be right in life again. Sam does the dishes even though I let him know that I don't have a problem doing them myself.

"We are already staying here free of charge; the least we can do is help clean up."

"It's not a problem; truth is...I kind of like it." I didn't mean to say that, but Sam has this weird effect on my wall of defenses. Almost like they aren't there.

Sam casts a look back to Dean who is trying to finish off the bag of Lays that is still on the table. There is infinite kindness in his green eyes when he looks back to me. "Yeah, me too."

Still an hour to go and Dean is getting that restless look on him. I've asked if we should practice shooting anymore and he states that I hit six cardboard dummies on every mark I aimed for and I'm good. He even kept the first one that I hit saying it's something I would want to keep for later. What a dork.

He pulls a deck of cards from inside his duffel and Sam sits down next to them. I have never seen two people so in sync. They are playing poker inside of two minutes and I watch from the side not wanting to get between the two of them. Dean shuffles the cards and Sam says something to him about "this week's chores." and I have more and more time to pick apart our plan.

What if it doesn't work? What if someone gets hurt? What if I get killed? What will happen to Bailey then? What if... my endless stream of questions is cut off as a card sails on the table to land into front of my clasped hands. I look up confused, to get caught in Deans' gaze. Like a moth to a flame.

"You in or are you out?" The question is loaded with gravity and I know I just _know_ he is asking about more than the card game.

And really isn't that the question, the only one that needs to be answered right now. I look at Sam's face, seemingly too young to be the face of a soldier, to the arsenal spread out on the couch, to my own hands that shake as I pick at the edge of the card, and then back to Dean. Was I in or was I out?

My voice is steadier than I feel when I pick the card up. "I'm in."

**Coming up...Action! Terror! Kayla figuring out they aren't gay ;) Stay tuned!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N.: As promised there is a wee bit of action in this chapter, also some hurt/comfort and more snarky Kayla, yay! I hope you guys enjoy, this was one of my favorites to write. As previously stated all of the medical jargon and stuff is brought to you by Google and the letter B. As in BS I made up. :P Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, I can't express how much it means to me! **

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Chapter 4**

The ride to Hotel Clovis is quiet. Dean doesn't even risking making noise by turning his music on, although I notice with a snort he hums Metallica and when it gets to the chorus Sam joins in. God I hope everything goes right tonight, please. I send up a quick prayer and then we are there and the building looks oddly like a tomb.

Great thought to have right before going into battle…Moron.

Dean runs over what I need to do, demonstrating with his own gun. Turn off the safety, point and aim and in between him taking a breath my brain panics, spiraling into full blown terror.

I don't want to do this, why the hell do I need to this, they can do this...

"Kayla!" There is a hard shove to my shoulder, jolting my thoughts. "You go in smart or you don't go in at all."

"Okay."

"I mean it, if you can't hold your own, you'll get me and Sam killed."

More death, more life snuffed out, you still going...

"We can't afford it. And I'm sorry, I wish I had more time to get you ready but this is it, this is all we get."

"_This is it? This is all we get?" I'm gesturing to the house and all of its possessions._

_Bailey is crying, hard._

"_Two dead parents for this?" I choke on a bitter laugh "We got jipped Bails."_

_And then she is hugging me, tight around the waist, giving me nowhere to retreat than into the embrace._

"_You still have me Kayla." her voice is tiny, barely able to be heard over her sobbing._

_I did, and it would have to be enough, because all she had left was me._

I shake my head; Bailey needs me. Pee your pants later, take the gun and prove you can do this.

My hand grasps the hilt of the weapon. "I'm ready."

Something must have changed on my face because he nods. "Yeah, you are."

He moves over to Sam, checking weapons, issuing orders, I have no problem telling who wears the pants in their relationship.

"Hey," Sam grabs his partners shoulder. "Be careful man."

A gruff "You too." is returned and then he is back at my side.

"Silver rounds, aim for the heart. Take it out first and then we look for your sister."

"Okay." Deep breath.

We round the building staring at the entrance, Sam by my side and Dean on his knees picking the lock.

"Kayla, if you get yourself in trouble hit the ground and Dean and I will cover you."

I look sideways at him with a smirk. "Who says I won't be covering you?" it's said for the sake of bravado and we both know it.

He chuckles.

"Getting saved by a girl, Dean would love that." He says dryly.

Dean is back next to us, smiling at his triumph.

"Door's open." he says as I push past him. He meets me at the door, holding it open just a crack for me.

"I'll go in first, then you and then Sam." There is a muscle working in his jaw, like he is worried about putting Sam in the rear and not being able to protect him. I feel bad suddenly for feeling the need to tag along.

There is more silent communication between the two of them and then he moves to go inside of the building.

I grab his wrist for just a second as he turns annoyed eyes on me.

"What Kayla?" he hisses under his breath.

I owe them both so much, if not for them I wouldn't have even made it this far.

I press my lips to his in a swift kiss of gratitude before I lose my nerve. He looks shocked at me.

"Thank you for everything." I murmur and he ducks his head, in response or embarrassment I can't be sure as he vanishes into the building.

With a glance back to Sam I follow him in.

* * *

><p>It's a good thing that I'm not afraid of the dark, except that I am and my breath ratchets in my chest as we are plunged into it.<p>

A hand is at my back, soft and the whisper of "Easy."

Thank God for Sam, I'm about to lose it. He is never more than a couple of inches away from me as I throw out a hand, in hope to be able to grab onto something solid. I bump into what I hope is Deans' shoulder.

"Watch it!" Yup, definitely Dean. He hands me something solid. Flashlight I realize.

"Not until I tell you to." Got it, you're the boss; I'll just be over here in the corner hyperventilating.

Sam is back at my side. "Try and slow your breathing."

I do, counting, 1, 2, breathe, 3, 4, breathe.

"Good, that's good."

"Why aren't you freaking out?" I mutter.

Sam places a hand on my back as he guides me up the stairs.

"Not my first rodeo."

Right, been doing this since he was little, bet he has seen all sorts of nastiness, probably worse than this...

"Honestly I'm a little nervous, this is the first time Dean and I have dealt with a Toscana."

Oh great, rookies all around.

"They are actually really rare, our Dad hunted one over in West Virginia, but usually they are one of the more dormant creatures we have seen." he says in hushed tones and I wonder if he is talking because he is nervous.

Hazel to my left, dear God he moves fast.

"Can we stow the history lesson for after we have ventilated this bitch?" More whispers.

Sam nods and goes silent.

On the second floor now, nothing other than the three of us breathing. I'm kicking up dirt with every shuffle of my tennis shoes and concentrating on not sneezing when Deans voice orders. "Now," mine and Sam's flashlights blink on at the same time.

We do a sweep of the floor, not able to find anything useful and I think at least there is some light now, the darkness was maddening. Sam casts his light up, through a worn hole in the ceiling and suddenly I catch the glint of terrible crimson that found me at my house.

There isn't time to think, just to react as the plaster comes raining down from the ceiling and suddenly we are overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of this creature. Dean rolls underneath it, popping a round into its underside and it roars the sound unlike anything I have ever heard before. The sound of hell itself. I try to keep my flashlight on it, to give the boys something to aim at, but my hand is shaking, hard.

"Dammit." I mutter and lock my hand forcing it to illuminate the beast.

I wish I hadn't. It's terrifying and glares at me with narrowed eyes.

Okay get mad, get mad, get mad...any second now would be good.

It stalks towards me and I do a circle around it, trying to get away and end up against someone's chest.

"Don't worry Kayla," It's Sam. "I got it."

He levels the barrel at its heart before clicking back the safety.

A millisecond too late.

The Tascona whirls around, enormous wings spread and slams all of its weight into me and Sam.

Before the force of the impact hits I have just enough time to seek out Deans' eyes on the opposite of side of the room. Absolute dread pours from his expression as he watches the trajectory of the wings, his eyes screaming that he wishes it was him about to take the attack. The same way I feel about Bailey.

So they are brothers, huh? That explains a lot.

That is the last thing I can think before the air is knocked out of me and the bellow of "SAM!" chases me under.

* * *

><p>I must have only blacked out for a second; my body flies down the steps and I clip my hand on the bottom before the rest of my weight lands on my shoulder with a sickening crunch. I scream and it is drowned by the stampede of noise from above.<p>

Dean is barely lit up by the flashlight as he dodges every swipe that curves in the air. He doesn't move from the spot he is at, his feet planted in a defensive stance. He's standing his ground. I realize with a gasp that he is standing over Sam's' crumbled form. He slices the air with one of his larger knives, gritting out curses and the creature stays just out of his reach, toying with him.

I can only see the shadow the monster casts and my God even that is daunting.

His knife connects as the Tascona lets out another yelp. Dean takes the momentary distraction of the beast to roll Sam onto his side, I can see the blood from where I lay, and hear Dean's voice shake as he says. "Sammy?"

The thing stops thrashing for a minute and catches sight of me.

It took Bailey, and now it had hurt Sam.

Okay, there it was. I was mad.

I look it straight in the eye, shaking but not from fear this time. I grab the gun that has fallen next to me with my good arm, cocked the hammer back and fired.

The Toscana doesn't have enough time to move as the bullet rips through part of its wing. Ignoring the pain in my arm, I suck in a breath and do it again, hitting it this time where I assume its ribs must be.

It shrieks and then extends its wings before tearing back up the hole it had descended from.

Don'tpassoutdon'tpassoutdon'tpassout becomes my mantra as I propel my aching body forward and plod back up the steps. Dean has Sam's' head cradled in his lap now and he mumbles something for only him to hear. He looks up at me as I sink down to the floor with him. His fingers are slick with Sam's' blood, pressed up against his brothers pulse, his other hand is pressed into his own side, damning up the cut that is bleeding there.

Poison talons...no fun. He blinks slowly and I have a terrifying thought that maybe the bitch nicked an artery.

"Kayla," his voice is thick. Are things really that bad?

"We have to get him to a hospital," I say as I reach around and try to take half of Sam's weight under my good side.

Dean moves to shove me off. I can't tell if it for my sake or his.

"Your shoulder is dislocated." he says flatly.

Hmm...so it is.

He is up and around me before I can process it grabbing me from behind.

"This is gonna hurt."

He's not lying as white flashes from behind my eyes with a loud pop coupling it.

"There it's back in place. Help me lift him," his voice is underneath me now as he tries to heave Sam up.

We manage to get him down the steps and into the car by grace alone. He has a gash on his forehead and blood oozes freely from it, but there is no other damage that I can see. He sure is pale though. Dean lays him in the front seat at first wanting to keep an eye on him I'm sure, before he realizes Sam's' face pulls in discomfort and he drapes him in my lap in the back seat. I strip my tank top as I press it into the cut to try to slow the blood as Dean moves to go back around to the front seat.

The ride to the hospital is silent other than Dean barking out 'how's he doing?' and wondering out loud if they need a hospital or if it is something he can handle himself. I stroke Sam's' hair, murmuring things that I hope are reassuring and at some point he mumbles. "Jess?" still only half conscious. My brows knit together in confusion as Sam fumbles for a hold onto my arm. "Jess?" he inquires again his voice so saturated with affection and concern that my heart breaks a little. I don't know who Jess is, but the love Sam has for her is obvious. I curl my own digits in his. "It's okay Sam." And before I even finish my statement his head lolls unconscious into my stomach. Dean pretends not hear, just meets my eyes in the rear view mirror. He doesn't say anything about my wardrobe choice just strips his over shirt and tosses it in the back seat. Good, my tank top is soaked.

Everything passes by in a blur after we get to the hospital, Dean looks frantic and pale under the fluorescent lights as he hands them an insurance card that has Donny Milton on it and answers all of the admitting nurse's questions. I listen in a daze in case I have to validate the story down the road.

We sit in silence side by side, waiting for news. At some point, without really thinking about it, I slip my hand into his, giving his clammy digits a reassuring squeeze. He doesn't respond, doesn't do anything other than breathe until the doctor comes back down the long corridor. He is up in a flash with me trailing behind him, more than a little lost. Bobby (bobby?) Milton had stabilized, they are going to keep him overnight for observation. He took a nasty crack to the head, sprained two of his ribs when he landed wrong and has a concussion but was awake and alert before they had given him something for the pain.

"Can I see him?" Dean's voice is rough and the doctor carts him down the hallway with a nod to me.

I stay behind, sinking down into the hard backed chair, and then there is a police officer and I recite the story just like Dean told it. He would be so proud.

When Dean makes the journey back down the hallway he looks like a man haunted, pasting on a fake smile for my benefit.

"How is he?" I asked, concern flooding my voice.

"Sammy? He's good, a little doped up, but he'll be fine." Fake cheer.

"Are you going to stay?" I would too if that was the case.

"Yeah."

So that was settled. "Okay. So tell them I'm your guys' sister or something, because I'm staying too."

"Kayla, just go home, we'll be there in the morning after they discharge him." He says tiredly.

I think of Sam guiding me through the dark building, washing dishes at my house, lying in my lap bleeding.

"No way. I'm staying." Hazel vs. Hazel round four. He gives, too tired, too worried, too something to fight me on it and leads the way back towards the room.

* * *

><p>Sam looks inexplicably young against the white sheets of the hospital bed. The gauge across his forehead has a crisscross of sutures against it.<p>

But...there is a flutter of his chest as it rises and falls, and all I can think is thank God he's alive.

"Sam, don't drool when you have company. It's rude." Dean is making jokes in spite of the unconscious male.

I laugh softly, stating "He's your brother."

He doesn't ask how I know this, doesn't turn on me in anger just says quietly. "He's my brother."

Another hour and he looks me over, almost as if he is seeing me for the first time since the attack, raking my form with his eyes. "How's the shoulder?"

"Stiff."

He winces. "Sorry, I didn't have time to do it gently."

"It's okay. How are you?"

He brushes off my question and comes to sit on the bench that I have parked myself on. He grabs my hand as I hiss out in pain.

"Clipped that damn thing on the bottom of the stairs, be careful." I grunt out.

His fingers move along the bone. "It's just sprained, you'll be okay."

"Thanks Florence Nightingale." I grumble as I roll my eyes at him.

He smirks at that.

He leaves about an hour later to move the Impala, a secondary thought when in crisis mode and when he comes back Sam's shifts his body towards him, even in drugged out sleep he is aware where Dean is.

Dean pats the mop of hair fondly and checks his pulse again before sitting next to me.

"You want me to set your hand?"

My eyebrows rise at his question.

"You know how to do that?"

His answering grin manages to be both sad and amused as he says. "We learn a lot in our line of work."

I hold out the swollen appendage and bite my lip as he gets to work; it hurts a lot, but feels much better when he is done.

"Thank you." I mutter and he genuinely smiles at that.

"You gonna kiss me again?" I flush and he looks unsure that he has said the right thing. He has no reason to look that way... I wonder if that is something grief has taken away from him.

I lean over and touch my lips to his stubbly cheek.

When I wake up Dean is sitting at Sam's' bedside, talking in hushed tones to him. I can hear "everything is okay bro." and "you know how much I hate these chick flick moments." he sounds broken and I can't bring myself to look him in the face.

I understand all about the bonds between siblings.

After Dean has stopped his steady stream of conversation, I let out an exaggerated yawn and stretch out into the bench hoping that I have given him enough time to compose himself. He swipes at his eyes and watches me as I approach the bed.

"Any change?"

"No, kids still sound asleep."

"Must be nice." I huff.

Dean dips his head in agreement.

"Why don't you get some shut eye? I can watch him for a little bit." The clock above the bed is glares 4am at us.

His head snaps up in defiance.

"No I'm fine." Fierce loyalty, no trust lent to outsiders. I can relate.

"Dean, you're not going to be any good to your brother or the case if you don't get at least a couple of hours."

He knows I'm right so he tries a different tactic. "You are wiped too, you should get some sleep."

I flew my neck back and forth. "Got my standard four hours. I'm good."

His back bows with the weight of the world and I place a hand softly in between the blades.

"I won't let anything happen Dean, I promise. I'll take watch." It sounds like something Sam would say, from what little I know of him.

His shoulders sink. I feel my heart stutter in my chest. What burden is this man carrying?

"Just a couple of hours." he grumbles, pulling himself out of the chair. "Wake me up if anything, and I mean _anything_, happens."

"I will."

He is already lying down on the bench bundling his jacket up as a pillow.

"Dean?"

One eye cracks open. "What?"

"You got scratched; we need to take care of that."

"In the morning, when we get back to the house." I know that tone having used it on Bailey before so I drop it.

I pick up one of the books by the coffee table before taking my place in Deans' chair and flip open to the first chapter. It's a suspense and I think at least it will keep me awake. I've barely gotten two pages in when Dean says "Kayla," and it's barely more than a sigh.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." Earnest, so opposite of what I have seen from him.

I duck my head back into the book and mean it with my whole heart when I say. "You're welcome."

Reading relaxes me. And the boys I notice with a snort. Dean is full on snoring; a trail of drool on his arm, and Sam has sunk even deeper into his pillows, creating a crater effect his face turned towards his brother. When they shiver at the exact same time it should surprise me, but it doesn't. I just get up from the creaky chair, battered body protesting and tuck the blanket up higher on Sam and grab the extra blanket to drape over Dean. He wakes up enough to see that it is me approaching him, and even in the dim light I can see he is tensed and ready if he should need to protect himself.

"It's just me Dean." I crouch down to his eye level in case he needs more validation that we are in no immediate danger.

"Sam?" he grunts.

"He's fine, just sleeping."

"Good, that's good" he is already well back on his way to sleep as I move away from him.

The clock reads 5:37am and I lament that soon the nurse will be in to check on things. I'm feeling unusually comfortable with these two and don't want the time together to end. Sam lulls his head in my direction as he casts murky eyes at me.

"Hey," I stop mid-sentence and lay the book on its side. "How are you feeling?"

He doesn't answer, just reaches a hand out to pat the metal railing almost as if he is looking for something. "D'n?"

"What?" I lean in to hear him better.

"D'n?' he groans again.

Oh Dean! I should have known.

"Dean? He's fine Sam, he's" standing by the bed, how does he DO that?

"I'm here Sam" A pat to the uninjured side of his head.

Sam eyes him with concern. "You okay?" He mumbles. He's taken note of the way Dean is favoring one side of his body.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine." He smirks.

Sam looks skeptical. "Dean,"

Dean places a hand to his shoulder. "Dude, _you _are the one laid up in a hospital bed. I'm good, I'm golden."

Exit stage Mckayla, those two have something I have never seen before.

"Coffee?" I ask, cracking my back and brushing Deans shirt over my chest. I'd forgotten I had it on.

Dean looks up with a nod of his head. "Coffee."

Sam (Bobby Milton) gets discharged around seven after being checked over. He's groggy and in pain, but no worse for wear. Dean has an arm hooked under his shoulders, careful to avoid the ribs as he fishes his keys out of his jacket and tosses them to me.

"Don't mess her up. Meet me out front in five."

I'm being trusted to handle Dean's second best treasure.

He folds into the car without a noise as I move into the backseat once more. Dean eyes scan his brother and then the road, looking to me like he is gauging the road that will jostle his brother the least. The car ride is tense and when we hit a speed bump Sam grunts out in pain. "Sorry Sammy," Dean mutters and it's for so much more than the bump in the road.

"Upstairs or downstairs?" I ask as Dean shifts the sleeper on his shoulder. After the third hitch in the road on the way over that Sam had winced against, Dean had dug the painkillers out of his pocket and handed him an almost empty water bottle. Sam was back to dozing within minutes, making maneuvering his lanky form out of the car an adventure.

Dean looks at the stairs, pales a little and then back to the couch.

"It folds into a bed, if you want me to,"

He shakes his head. "Yeah, thanks."

I hurry over to the couch and get it set up in record time, rushing upstairs to collect as many pillows as I can gather in both arms. Dean looks like he is about ready to drop as I race back to his side. Between the two of us we get Sam lying comfortably and Dean lays his head against his chest for a minute before reporting. "No congested breathing, his lungs sound clean so we can rule internal bleeding out."

Who _are_ these guys?

"That's good."

"Yeah it is." He sinks into the loveseat adjacent to the couch watching Sam.

"We need to get you looked at." I place a hand on his shoulder.

"In a little bit, I'm fine."

Fine? Right. He looks like he is caving in on himself, face ashen, chest heaving.

"You look like a less attractive version of a geisha girl."

He's dumbfounded at that.

"Doors are locked; Sam is healing, it's okay."

"You aren't going to let this go are you?"

I can be just as stubborn as he is.

"Nope."

A loud sigh. "Fine. You win." he begins the trek upstairs. "Pain in the ass."

Yeah, I am growing pretty fond of him too.

I snag his and Sam's duffel bag from the car, bringing them both in before locking his baby back up. The sight that greets my eyes in the bathroom is Dean sitting on the edge of the tub shirtless. It would be sexy as hell if he didn't look like death warmed over.

I hold out the duffel out at arm's length and he looks up slowly at it. Oh yeah the poison is definitely effecting his reflexes.

"I don't know what we need," I start even as he begins to dig out the silver flask and worn journal.

"You have to sprinkle holy water over the wound, start the incantation and then during the last three lines of the ritual douse it."

"Okay," I reach for the journal and Dean has a moment of hesitation, one where he stares at me so intently I'm surprised that two holes haven't been burnt into the back of my head, before he hands it over with some reluctance.

The message is loud and clear, he doesn't have the luxury of being picky, but that doesn't mean he's happy with me touching it. I lay down two towels on the floor and two on the tub as he leans over. The gash pulls open where it has scabbed over, drawing blood again around the red, angry skin.

I pop the lid to the flask and take a shallow breath. I remember what this feels like and really don't envy Dean. When I look over at him he has braced his hands against the side of the tub, body pulled taut.

I guess he remembers too.

The Latin isn't that hard to read, it's the hitch in breath of the man next to me that makes me want to reach out to him with every passing word. Every verse his hands lose a little bit of their grip and when I get to the line before the last three lines of the ritual his hands fall to the side and his body lies limp up against the cool tile. I snake one of my hands into his, giving him something to hold onto.

Dousing time, here goes nothing.

The rest of the flask is upended onto his side as I finish the last three lines. All he does is groan, low in his throat sounding like a wounded animal, but his hand tightens painfully in mine.

And then, just like with me, it's over and he slumps into the tub, barely breathing. Anxiety grips me tight, did I do it wrong? Another few seconds drag on and he still hasn't lifted his head.

I move into the tub with him muttering "Oh God, I did it wrong, oh God."

I cup one hand around his jaw and lift up, relieved more than words can say that he smiles shakily at me.

"You didn't do it wrong." he breathes and I lean my forehead down into his neck just to feel the pulse thrum there.

He keeps slipping and trying to hide it, when he attempts to get out of the tub. Between the holy water and sweat everything is slick and Dean looks a bit wobbly as he finally gets halfway up. I move to his side just in case he should happen to need my help getting the rest of the way vertical. But I can see with one look to his pain cleared eyes that the stubborn, prideful Dean is back in business. So I don't even say anything when he slips the second he is upright, I just place a shoulder under his arm so he has something solid to ground him. It's just a minute that he lets himself rest, held fast between me and the wall…. just a minute and then he pushes off of me gently.

Sam dozes, Dean watches, I pace. It seems to be the only thing to do for some time; hours pass with no movement or sound other than the soft rise and fall of chest proving signs of life. Dean sighs; a long draw out exhale and Sam cranes his head towards him and opens one eye.

"Sammy?" he is at the bed in a flash.

"Dean?"

"Hey, yeah it's me. How are you feeling?"

Sam coughs as he tries to sit up and is stopped by a palm to his shoulder.

"You probably aren't going to want to do that Sam, you sprained some ribs,"

"Sprained ribs suck." he concludes before settling back onto the pillows.

"Almost as much as bullet wounds."

A laugh passes between them.

"Did we get it?"

Dean furrows his brow and shakes his head.

"No we didn't, but tomb raider over here," a nod in my direction. "Shot it twice."

Sam's eyebrows lift into his hairline. "Wow, really," he looks over at me. "Nice."

I smile shyly and move a little bit closer to the bed. Sam looks me over his eyes pausing on my purpled hand.

"Are you okay?"

"Me?" I question, running my good hand through my hair. "Not going to be challenging either of you to an arm wrestling match any time soon, but yeah I'm good. Thanks. Are you?"

"Tired." he answers honestly.

"We got time, and good drugs, if you need some more sleep, get it."

"You're just saying that because you think it's funny when I'm all doped up." Sam grumbles.

Dean turns towards me with a smile. "It's true. I do. This one time he thought his nurse had snakes for hair, cause she had those braids and ho boy, Sammy flipped out," he is interrupted by an elbow to his gut from a perturbed Sam.

"Shut up, jerk!"

Dean ruffles the top of his head. "Bitch."

After Sam's third try to push himself up to a sitting position produces nothing more than a string of curse words and a frustrated older brother Sam finally takes the pills and glass of milk with a grateful look. I can tell he hates the weakness of being laid up, but he also knows his limits and that his ribs are not very happy with him. His face pinches as he chats with Dean; I wonder what they are talking about...

Once Sam has tapered off into sleep, face smoothing out and granting him innocence once more Dean gets to his feet with purpose. He grabs his keys and is at the door before I have a chance to ask where he is going. He turns back towards me and orders "Take care of Sam." and then he is gone, leaving me to ponder in his absence.


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N.: Update time! Here is Chapter 5, hopefully you like! Thanks again for reading and reviewing as always, you guys are the best!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Chapter 5**

I clean up the house while he's gone, do a load or two of laundry, wash some dishes, get rid of the blood soaked clothes, wipe down the bathroom, and peruse the fridge for something to eat. I assume Dean will want to eat something when he gets back and I know Sam has to eat at some point too. Cleaning only kills two hours of the day and before I know it I am back to just sitting by Sam's side, idly reading a magazine.

Where the hell did Dean go? What are we supposed to do now?

Almost as if I have spoken my thoughts out loud Sam shifts in his sleep and opens his eyes in my direction. He still looks more than a little out of it, but I can't help but be impressed that his eyes first scan the room for threats before they land on me. Apparently the alert part of his brain communicates that he is safe because he throws a lopsided smile my way.

"Hey Sam." I grin back.

"Did you read to me at the hospital?" he asks softly.

"Yeah, I did."

"Dean reads to me sometimes so I know that I'm not alone..." his voice trails off and he scans the room again, seeking out a different figure.

"He left a little while ago, he'll be back."

A nod of the floppy brown hair. "Yeah, yeah he will be." His voice sounds a lot less unsure and weak.

Sam and I talk for a little bit, mostly about books. I'm surprised that his taste matches a lot of mine. He tells me he wanted to write once upon a time, so did I before death had ripped a hole in my soul.

"You should still do it," I muse. "Someday when all this is done."

Sam looks wistful at my comment. But when he turns green eyes to me they are sad and full of regret. "Yeah, someday...when this is all done." Something tells me their work is never done.

"So, tell me about Dean." I say to change the subject and Sam grins just at the mention of him.

"Well we have been friends since we were little,"

"I know you're brothers."

"Oh." It doesn't surprise him nearly as much as I thought it would. However I can see by the shift of emotion on his face that he isn't going to give me the whole story. Protecting himself, protecting his brother. I understand.

"So what did he tell you?" Guarded, he's got the tone down after years of practice I assume.

"He didn't tell me anything, I figured it out."

Again he doesn't look surprised.

"Sorry we lied to you. It's just,"

"How your life is." I finish for him.

We talk until he tries to sit up again, using his elbows for leverage and I would have discouraged him, but he did it so fast I had no time. A painful yelp is what he gets for his troubles and then he falls back towards the bed as I hover over him like a mother hen.

"What do you think you are doing?" I ask, sitting on the edge of the makeshift bed.

"Felt fine for a minute," he wheezes and then snorts under his breath.

"You and your brother are both stubborn idiots." I mumble as I pull the pill bottle from my pocket and dump one single blue pill into the boys' palm.

"It's the Winchester way." he murmurs downing the pill with no liquid. I grab the glass of water on the coffee table and watch as he drains the whole thing.

"Winchester? Like the gun?"

He spears me with a look that states he didn't mean to let that slip and mutters. "Mmm hmmm."

I drop the subject and watch as Sam visibly relaxes. It only takes him a couple of minutes to drift back into sleep. I push the shaggy bangs away from his eyes, wondering about the fairness of a world that has picked this boy to be a hunter.

Dean charges back into the house an hour later, the roar of the Impala cut off a mere thirty seconds before he bursts through the door. He scans the room, evaluating the situation before turning the intensity of his gaze on me.

"Sam's fine." I say and his whole being loosens.

If I had a hundred years to study and know them, I would still never understand what makes them tick.

He drops a bag on the island. "There's twizzlers in there for when the big geek wakes up."

"He was awake for a while, but then he moronically tried to sit up too fast and one little blue pill later he took a trip back down the rabbit hole."

"Why did you let him get up?" he demands.

"I didn't _let_ him do anything, what would you like me to do Dean? Sit on him?" With every step in the room I can see defeat and anguish etched into his form.

"What is it?"

The wall slams back into place. "Nothing."

Takes a bullshitter to know a bullshitter.

"Dean," I start, circling to the chair he is sitting in. "What happened?"

He sighs loudly.

"Is it Sam? Because he seemed fine when I was talking to him, I'm sorry if I did something wrong." a hand to the inside of my wrist stops my rant.

"It's not Sam, you did fine."

Okay good, one crisis averted. What is killing the light in those hazel eyes then?

"Where did you go?" I ask, suddenly anxious to know.

"Back to the hotel."

The hair on the back on my neck stands up and my heart drops into my stomach.

"What did they find?" I ask.

"Nothing." he repeats.

"What was it? Was it her? Did they find her? Is she okay? Is she," I'm grabbing at him, desperate for answers, desperate for something.

"Kayla!" Dean barks as he stands to his full height and seizes my frantic hands.

"Tell me what you found!" I yell, un-phased by his size and skill and the fact that he could fold me into a pretzel if he wanted too.

His face is stoic, not giving me anything.

"Tell me what you found!" I bellow again, hanging my head in defeat as I whimper. "Please."

His grip doesn't move from my wrists just lets up, steadying me now, not fending me off.

"Kayla," my name again, said in soft tones. I think I liked it better when he was yelling.

"Dean," my head fits under his chin.

I need good news, I need to know if she is okay, and I need to know when I can see her again and tease her, and tell her how sorry I am that I let so many things get in the way.

My thoughts are cut off by Dean leaning back, meeting my gaze for the first time since he's come through the door.

"I went back Kayla, and nothing was there. Other than a big freaking hole in the side of the building and about a dozen cops," he pauses, cupping my hands instead of gripping them now.

"Tell me." I urge.

"They searched every room there, the ones that they could get to anyway, the building was falling apart. There was nothing. Kayla, I'm sorry… there was nothing."

Nothing, no Bailey, no clues,_ nothing_. Suddenly his despairing face makes so much more sense; my heart is having trouble catching up.

"No, there has to be something, anything! Blood, something, please God," I choke on the sob in my throat, tears stinging from behind my eyes.

"Kayla, I'm,"

"Maybe they didn't look in the right place, maybe they're lying, maybe,"

"They're not. Kayla, I checked myself, there wasn't anything there."

"No," I shake my head, tears tracing down my cheeks. "That can't be right. How can we find Bailey now? Where do we go? What do we do?"

He doesn't answer me just holds my gaze.

"Dean," I cry, body starting to shake with unshed grief. "What do_ I_ do?"

His hands let go of mine at the same time I lean into him, body collapsing under the maddening distress that has run my life recently. He pulls me close as sobs wrack my body, whole being trembling with the out pour of misery.

I can't stop, I can't. Bailey can't be gone, she has to be somewhere, God please, don't. Please just...don't. Haven't I lost enough? I can't do this by myself.

Some of that must be verbal because Dean strokes my hair and murmurs that it will be okay in a ruined voice. It's the last thing I can rationally process as I howl my heartache into his now damp flannel. I haven't been able to cry now in months, feeling like it will destroy me if I ever give into it, but now I have no choice, I'm too far gone in the storm to pull out.

It feels like _hours _before I have the strength or mind to pull away from him. I can't even muster the care to wipe my tear stained face. Dean watches me with compassion as I place a hand on the table behind us for balance; having given all my poor body has to give in that moment. I take a shuddering breath, resentful of the rise and fall of my chest and Deans' eyes never leave me. Ball is in my court I suppose; he's waiting to see what I will do next. Bring the wife and kiddies it's going to be a show. My tattered sanity frays even further, but I manage to rasp out. "Thank you." in a broken voice.

He doesn't say "you're welcome", doesn't need to, the words too small. My heart feels like it is squeezed tight in my chest. Bailey...everything good in my life has been ripped out from underneath me. I don't know if my heart can handle the pain.

"We'll keep looking, we won't give up, and we'll find her. I promise." Dean again, ever the white knight.

I don't respond to him, feeling like I have been wrung out. What else can I possibly give? What else can I possibly do?

"You can't give up." It sounds forced.

Give up? No, I was thinking going insane sounds good or comatose because that never gets old.

His fingers are at my shoulders, digging into to them.

"Kayla, you have to snap out of it! I know this is too much to ask of you, it's too much to ask of anybody, but you have to. Bailey needs you to."

Something in me that felt like it died stutters back to life.

"Bailey, yeah she's still out there." I feel like I'm coming out of a deep sleep, coming back to life. A phoenix rising from the ashes.

Dean looks concerned for me, a look I had previously thought reserved for Sam.

"You with me?" he asks, letting me go. I miss the contact within seconds.

"Yeah, I'm good." Far from good, but back in the game and that is what counts.

We are both startled by the loud buzz that sounds from behind us; Dean instantly swings his gaze to the laundry room.

"It's the dryer." I say with a laugh.

Dean looks abashed, but thankfully laughs a little as well. "Oh. Right, I knew that."

"I did some wash while you were gone; hopefully all the blood came out." Simple useless facts, better than choking on the aftermath of the out pour.

He beams at me. "Hell you might be a better wife than Sammy."

I have a great response on the tip of my tongue, but it is cut off by the perturbed moan of "I want a divorce."

Dean and I look at each other, then at Sam and then burst into full belly laughing. Maybe because of the fissure of misery that had opened up beneath us or in spite of it, but Dean and I are bent over in laughter, quaking with the hilarity of that moment.

Sam looks completely confused as he (slowly this time) lifts his frame up to a sitting position. Dean and I are still cackling as we make our way into the living room to check on our favorite patient.

His color is starting to return, but when Dean lifts his shirt to check the injured area there is a decoration of ugly purple and black that taints the skin.

"Jesus, Sam," Dean breathes, running a hand along them gently.

"They're not that bad." he moans.

Dean pulls his hand back into his lap. "Well at least they aren't swollen, bruised to all hell, but they aren't pushing against your skin, that's good."

So cops, doctors, damsels in distress rescuers extraordinaire...Is there anything these guys don't do?

I cook macaroni and cheese with hot dogs for dinner. None of us are particularly hungry, but we have to keep our bodies strong for the job so we all eat like its routine. Under different circumstances it would have been a good meal, under current ones its sustenance and that is all. Sam spends most of his day in the bed, drifting between a hazy half awareness and a tight lipped, pain-filled full awareness, and Dean is never more than a handful of feet away from him. He gives a whole new meaning to the definition "older brother."

Sam requests his laptop after the third time he jolts into consciousness, stating with a frustrated grunt "I can't just sit here and do nothing anymore," Dean concedes after Sam threatens to get up and get it himself.

I go over everything in my head again, the building, the Tascona, the way the skin tore off of its wing when I hit it. The fact that Bailey wasn't there, we don't have any leads and we are running out of time. Seventy-two hours by my count, maybe a little change. Barely more than three days before Bailey becomes another causality to my heart.

No. I had to find something, there was not going to be one more loss. **No**.

My mind is a carnival tilt a whirl though, too spent to put much more together than basic motor functions and the occasional already built in sarcastic quip. I need sleep and a hot shower and for some clue to show up gift wrapped at my door. I would take the two I can get.

I approach Sam's bed carefully, already putting a blanket and a pillow at the end of the loveseat knowing Dean would not want to stray far from his little brother.

"Hey guys," they both look up at me. "I can barely keep my eyes open; I think I'm going to call it a night."

Two heads bobs at once.

"Goodnight Kayla, see you in the morning." Sam says with a half-smile.

"Just lock up when you guys finally shut down. I'm thinking pancakes for breakfast."

The "All right!" that I get from Dean is worth all the exhaustion in the world as a soft chuckle escapes my lips and I make my way upstairs.

* * *

><p>I run the water hot. Like 'cooking me like a lobster' hot. And it hurts, but it's the good kind of pain, the type that pounds my shoulder back into to feeling somewhat normal. The water cascades down on my face and erases the remaining traces of my sorrow. If only the rest of my disquiet would follow the path my tears had taken, leaving my soul as shiny and new feeling as my rapidly reddening skin. The soap rinses the blood from my hands, stubborn bits clinging to the underside of my nails. I've never held someone while their blood ran onto my fingers before, never shot a gun, never kissed someone on a whim, never invited not one, but two strange men into my life, never knew that things would get this complicated when I woke up to green eyes in the hospital.<p>

I opt for a pair of boxers with smiley faces on it and a fitted blank tank for sleep clothes tonight. It is still the middle of August in Clovis and the summer heat hasn't let up at all. I'm incredibly proud of the fact that when I go to cross to my room and Dean is standing by the door I don't even jump...much.

He laughs a low rumble in the otherwise silent area. "You'd think you aren't used to strange men waiting outside your door."

I flash him a smirk. "Up until a couple of days ago I wasn't."

"Touché."

"Is Sam okay?" Because why else would he just be waiting for me?

"Yeah, he's fine."

"Okay," I start, folding my arms across my chest before I lean up on the wall next to him. "What's up?"

His face tilts away from mine. It takes a minute for him to speak again.

"I'm just...not good at this okay?" he huffs.

Good at what? Speaking, breathing, looking that good with seemingly no effort? All points I would like to argue.

He is just his t-shirt now, golden amulet glinting in the moonlight, his face conveys something I have never seen on him before. I realize with an internal gasp that his clothes are not the only thing he has shed. He looks open, and if I'm being completely honest, terrified.

I want to tease him; it's so much easier than what is in his eyes right now. But I don't, I ask instead in a voice much too quiet to be my own. "Good at what?"

He sucks on his teeth for just a moment as if testing the taste of the words he is about to say. "Giving a damn." He turns to face me.

"About what?" I still am not getting what he is trying to tell me.

"Everything, anything, except for Sam. Ever since my..." he breaks off, acutely aware of what he is about to tell me.

"Why are you telling me this?" It's the wrong thing to say and I regret it immediately as his face shuts down, his eyes shuttering back to detachment.

Foot meet mouth, mouth foot, I believe you're old friends.

"Forget it." he grumbles as he shoves off of the wall and moves away from me.

"Wait, I didn't," my hand cups his arm this time; the shock from the contact is electric. "I'm not good at it either." I mumble and to my surprise he laughs at that.

"You're kidding me right? You've been mama bear ever since we showed up here."

"I've had practice, taking care of Bailey. I know how to do the older sibling thing, it's the..." I gesture to the space between me and him and hope I'm not reading all the signs wrong. "Thing that I have trouble with."

Dean shakes his head slowly. "Man, we sure got issues."

"A mountain's worth." I agree.

I can see another life playing out before my eyes in that moment. Dean teasing me about liking romantic comedies, me kissing his football injuries better, Sam being a close friend, Bailey liking Dean, but thinking he is a little bit of an ass, because he is. Mom and Dad having a soft spot for the Winchesters and inviting them over for dinner, me waking up to a text from him, him laughing as I trip over something before checking to see if I am okay, but it's another life. Not mine.

He clears his throat, jolting me back to reality, his eyes scan my face as he tries to read the emotions on it.

I smile sheepishly, skirting around him to get in front of my door as I take the knob in one hand and turn my body back towards him.

"Well it's been a long night and I'm going to turn in. Big day tomorrow, fighting monsters."

"Yeah, no rest for the wicked." he takes a step closer to me and my whole body tightens in anticipation.

"Right, work, work, work." I twist the doorknob and begin to pull into my room a foot at a time. I blink and then he is there, his form casting a shadow on me as I look up into eyes that are as stormy as the expression on his face.

"Sleep tight Kayla."

"You too Dean. Sweet dreams." he turns to leave and takes two steps away from me before whirling back around.

"Dean?" I question, taken aback by the intensity of his eyes.

"Ah screw it." he growls as traps me up against the door jamb, his hand splayed against the small of my back.

I have just enough time to open my mouth to inquire what is going on before his lips descend on mine.

It's not violent or passionate or any of the other half a dozen adjectives I would have used when thinking of this moment, it's intimate and calm and feels a lot like what we shared in the kitchen. My body is just catching up to what is going on and I am rising on my toes to be able to reciprocate the kiss when he pulls away. He pushes my glasses back to their rightful resting place on the bridge of my nose, his eyes downcast as he does it.

"Night Kayla." he says curtly before he hurries down the stairs.

Color me confused, what the hell was that about?

* * *

><p>Waking up is a little bit of a shock to my system, phantom pain still hangs onto all my limbs even though everything is mostly healed. I have to remind myself that I'm not bleeding out on my side and that my shoulder is not yanked all way to the front of my body. As I coax myself out of bed I wonder what Bailey wants for breakfast and is it a school day I haven't been keeping track, before the last four days falls into place in my head.<p>

Not Bailey, Sam and Dean, not a school day, another day on the case.

When I get to the top of the stairs and am about to go down them quietly to start making breakfast I hear Dean talking softly. I peek over the railing. Dean's hair is sleep tousled and Sam is still asleep. Who is he talking to then? Himself? God? Something tells me Dean isn't a fan of the big guy upstairs, I lean a little closing to the railing, hoping to catch what he is saying.

I'm only human and after the abrupt end to our kiss last night I am dying for some details...

I can hear Deans' voice, pitched low.

"Man, we are so in over our heads." There is a shuffle of sound as he readjusts in his chair I assume.

"Dad didn't really give details of the Tascona he tracked, but I was there when it happened Sam. Dad got his ass kicked, I just wanted to let you know in case you..." he breaks off and I can just see his hand skim the top of his head. "I don't want you to feel bad you big girl." he gruffly says.

I wonder if the only time he is ever this open with Sam is when the younger Winchester is unconscious. Knowing Dean, probably. I lean my head against the railing, and wait for him to speak again.

"I hope we catch this damn thing Sammy. The sooner we get it the sooner we can put this town in our rearview." A heavy sigh. "We need to get out of here; this flipping place is driving me crazy." He says it low and everything in me stands on edge at the statement.

So that is what last night was all about? Why he ran away so fast? Couldn't wait to get out of here… Fine then, fuck him.

I lift myself from the floor and trot down the stairs. Heightened senses that the asshole has, he watches me from the first step I take. I breeze past him and Sam muttering a harsh "good morning" and go into the kitchen.

The bastard follows me in, dumb move.

"Hey Kayla, did you sleep well?"

Pleasantries, whoo- fucking- hoo.

"Just fine and you?" Big fake smile.

"Um...good." he looks unsure of how to proceed.

"Good. That's great!" I turn my back to him and dig a pan out of the cupboard.

"Yeah great." he mutters and I can almost see his face working as he tries to figure out what to say.

Save your breath you son of a bitch, I don't want to hear it.

"Dean?" Saved by Sammy, thank God for that overgrown boy.

Dean hesitates for a minute at my back before moving back to his brother.

Good, I don't have much of an appetite for bullshit today.

The pancakes are good, I think. I don't really know, I'm pissed so they just go down the hole, Sam looks happy though, and Dean, well he jumps when I drop the plate in front of him. Did he kiss me last night just to see if I had any feelings for him? Was it a test? One I had failed miserably? Because every girl wants to be kissed breathless and then left with a boatload of questions.

I must look agitated because Sam speaks up after another bite of his pancakes. "Is everything okay Kayla?"

Dean leans forward with a look that says 'yeah because I'd like to know.'

YOU'D like to know? Sure, I shouldn't have listened in, I have no one to blame for my current shitty mood but myself. Despite all that, I can't lie about how deep his comment has cut me.

Get out of this town, get away from me...they seem to go hand in hand in my mind.

"Yeah. Fine." I assure the brunette across from me.

He and Dean share a look of perplexity before shrugging their shoulders with a look that says 'Women.'

I desperately wish Bailey was there to counter back with the look that said 'Men.'

I take the quickest shower on God's green earth, not willing to give myself the down time to think about all my problems. A wrinkled hard rock café t shirt and a pair of jeans with flip flops is my outfit choice for the day. I do however shove my favorite pick earrings into my ears before I stomp back the stairs, hair free and wild about my face. Hairbrush be damned.

Dean watches me as I cross to the table, with something bordering on lust in his eyes, but when I turn to meet his gaze he moves far away from me, and when ten seconds later he looks back he is met head on by my heated glare.

Dean stays away from me after that, purposely sitting or standing as far away as possible. Sam notices, but thankful doesn't bring it up, at least not to me. Smart kid.

Maybe I am blowing things out of proportion; maybe I am letting my temper get the better of me but after my significant other had left me in a flash my heart turned a little cold.

Not to mention that between the bickering, brotherly connection, blood, and battles, I had started to like him. Just a little bit.

Deans' knowledge on how to not rile up a pissed off animal or maybe a previous encounter with someone of the female persuasion has him talking at me and not to me. And by the middle of the day I can feel my rage dissipate, giving way to disappointment and regret.

It is another day of research, the three of us monotonously sift through pages that have the same maddening information and when I turn to a book that shows just how savagely the Tascona eats its sacrificial victims I almost lose my breakfast.

Okay enough of this.

I stand, slamming the book shut in the process as the Winchester boys look up at me. I can't quite tell if it is fear or amusement that sparks in their eyes as I tear a rubber band from my arm and throw my hair up.

I am going a little bit out of my mind thinking of Bailey in the clutches of evil and I'm…not getting any closer to anything useful with every thick tome I thumb through. My sanity is hanging on by its nails. I need to get away, and since locking myself in my room seems both childish and useless (the boys will still be downstairs waiting for me to come to my senses) fleeing to my car seems like the next best thing.

"I'm going out." I state.

If they were dogs and not boys their ears would have literally perked up on the top of their heads.

"Where are you going?" Dean inquires. He tries to look nonchalant and to my surprise, fails.

Sam just looks interested as he waits for my answer.

"For a drive." I shoot back as I reach for my purse.

They both stand up, looking unsure of what to do.

Figures. Demons, monsters, ghosts, mortal danger those things they could deal with. But toss one pissed off, overly tired, worried woman at them and these hunters look like I am the most terrifying thing they have ever seen.

I force a breath out though my teeth and slow my feet as I turn back to them. They look like little boys about to be chastised.

I give.

"I'll be back in a little while, I just need to clear my head," I pause while waving my cell at them. "Call me if you need me, or need me to get anything."

Their stances soften as they look from me to each other and then sink back into their seats.

I just shake my head with a small smile, casting one last glance back at them before going out the door.

**Up next: Plot, peril and more of that snarky pistol Kayla you have come to know and love. **


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N.: Here comes Chapter 6! Thanks so, SO much for favoriting, subscribing, reading and reviewing this tale. It means SO much to me. I'm absolutely thrilled that you are enjoying it and I hope that you like the latest chapter. Bless all of you!**

**Disclaimer: Only Kayla is mine. And the Toscana and Bailey and ….okay a couple of things are mine but not the show. :-P**

**Chapter 6**

Fresh air! Hot desert air, but fresh none the less fills my lungs. I feel like I could swallow the sky it's that refreshing. And while my car pales in comparison to the black gleaming beast next to it as I slide in behind the wheel, thrust my keys into ignition and crank my music on, it's feels like nothing less than Heaven to me.

Belting out Bon Jovi makes me feel instantly better, like I'm a lion roaring out my outrage at the world. Cheesy yes, but it doesn't make it any less true. I wave at people I haven't seen in months, leaving my window down so the air can caress my skin. It is the first time since my parents have died that I feel like me again. I love Bailey like crazy, but I went from heartbroken ex, to grieving daughter, to sole guardian and caretaker with not nearly enough transition between them. It is nice, even if it is just for this moment, to be Kayla again.

The elation doesn't last long and soon my thoughts drift back to Bailey and the crisis at hand…and the fact that we don't have any leads, and we are running out of time. Talk about a mood killer.

I've only been gone about an hour when I start to feel guilty, Sam and Dean are trying to find a way to save my sister, and I am out cruising.

Avoidance thy name is Kayla.

I bring home snow cones in hopes to smooth away all earlier dissension with the peace offering.

When I get in the door Sam is flipping hastily through one of the books as he pounds something onto the keyboard and then scans one of the local papers. Dean looks bored out of his skull as I set the treats down on the table.

"What's that?" He asks, eyeing me warily.

"Sorry I took off." I mumble.

"It's okay; I have years of Sammy being emo to know how to deal with it."

Sam barely looks up at him, but I just catch him rolling his eyes as his face pulls into a 'screw you' expression.

I shake off the annoyance at the word emo and plop the shaved ice in front of him.

"I don't know what you guys like, but I figured black cherry is pretty universal."

Dean stares at it like he just now realizes I have some sort of food with me.

"Do you even like snow cones?" I ask, confused at his hesitance.

Sam pulls his spoon out of the icy substance and pops it into his mouth. "Thanks Kayla."

Dean eats his sullenly, echoing his brother with the thanks but otherwise staying silent. I have been in enough fights with Bailey to know this is what it looks like.

I move behind Sam curious to know what he is so engrossed in. More barf worthy pictures, more unimportant facts. My gaze goes to the newspaper, to the broad smiling face of the New Mexico governor Rich Kippling. I skim the article; he is in the area this week, speaking out against the horror of the wild fires that have been plaguing the state, commenting briefly on cleaning up downtown, touching in particular on the renovation of Hotel Clovis…. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

It may not have been gift wrapped, but it _had_ shown up at my door.

I read the article again, everything fitting with what we know, suddenly so many things that have been foggy in my mind slam into place.

"Sam!" I whirl on him and the poor guy, he jumps.

"What?"

"Are wildfire considered natural disasters?" My brain is working overtime now.

He looks baffled. "Um…yeah." He pauses looking at Dean for help. "I guess."

"Okay, okay, so wildfires are natural disasters, and he has been here for the last week and he had Hotel Clovis supervised, not like anyone would suspect of him of something so terrible, it all makes sense!" I cry.

Eventually these looks like I am completely insane are going to get old.

Sam huffs a brief painful sigh before he pushes himself out of the chair and comes to stand by me.

He looks at the paper I have clutched in my hand.

"Kayla, what did you find?"

"Everything!" I yell, waving the paper frantically in the air. "He's a State official in a position of power! Not like anyone would ever point the finger at him. And here we are living in the seventh circle of hell, but there are absolutely no fires here! How likely is that?" I'm surprised at the rate my brain is putting things together that I don't have cartoon style smoke pouring out of my ears.

"It's him. I'm telling you…that bastard brought this on all of us."

Sam takes the paper from my hand, smoothing it out where I have excitedly balled it up and scans it with focused eyes.

After a minute Dean speaks up from the opposite side of the table. "Sammy?"

He dips his head. "It fits, the governor, the Tascona, the ritual, it all fits."

Yes! My heart sings in triumph in my chest. If this is what it is like to solve a case, sign me up! It's invigorating the sense of victory in my spirit.

"Kayla, where is this guy staying?" Sam asks, shaking me from my mental victory dance.

"Um…the Holiday Inn I think. That's the nicest place in town."

His frown stops me short.

"No, no. It wouldn't work ...it would have to be somewhere bigger."

"Bigger? What are you talking about?"

"The ritual, it would have to be some place out in the open, somewhere no one would hear, it's not exactly um…" he looks at me sideways. "Quiet."

I feel sick as more gruesome images invade my mind.

"Bigger?" I muse, noticing that Dean is standing next to Sam, one arm at the ready in case his brother should falter.

"Bigger like a…" I pause as images of places that could match Sam's' description filter in my mind.

"Bigger like a park?" I ask, praying to receive confirmation.

"Yeah, a park would work, but it would have to be out of the way."

Out of the way…out of the way, out of the way…on the way out of town!

"Sam!" I shout and he and Dean both jump.

"You're a genius!" I grip his face in both hands before I lean up on my tip toes (because my God this boy is tall) and plant a kiss on his confounded face. Dean looks slightly upset and like he has a few choice words for me before I lean in and do the same to him.

"That's it!" I bellow, pulling away from both of them and swiping the paper from Sam's' hands.

Everything fits; everything makes sense, Thank God.

Dean looks at Sam who looks at Dean, and then they both look back to me.

"Um…Sam. What the hell was that?" he mutters.

"How should I know?" He whispers back.

I'm muttering to myself, putting together a plan, clues, strategy. A skill I wasn't even aware I had when Dean says "Christo."

I don't even look up as I reply. "Crisco's on the top shelf. Help yourself."

"That rules that out then." Is his troubled reply.

* * *

><p>It's some time later after I have gutted the paper, and filled two small notebooks with Intel when Dean dares to speak up again. I haven't really been listening to him the last forty five minutes, my mind too busy working frantically on a fool proof plan to save Bailey. I'm not really paying attention to him now. My pitter pattering heart and hard core crush takes back seat to a possibly suffering, definitely missing little sister.<p>

"Kayla!" He exclaims and finally I raise my face to meet his.

"What?"

"This has been real fun and all, watching you do," he gestures to the chaos on the table. "Whatever the hell it is you are doing, but Sam and I," an enthusiastic nod from his brother, ever his backup. "Would really like you to share with the rest of the class now."

"Oh yeah of course," I giggle nervously and tuck a stray hair behind my ears. "My bad."

The smile they give me very plainly says "It's a good thing you have all that cute to balance out the crazy."

I have to agree.

I explain my theory, knowing in my heart it is right. The governor, with it being a voting year and all needs to have some sort of one up on the competition, he just so happened to be in town the week that Hotel Clovis is taped off for renovation and the Tascona, just so happened to have been there.

Everywhere this man has been in the last month has miraculously been untouched by the horrific fires and now he is in Clovis and Bailey is gone. It all fits perfectly.

I'd met the man years earlier at a school pep rally and everything about him screams out 'slimey weasel.' Call it intuition, call it faith, call it madness but I know, I just _know _that he is the missing puzzle piece.

"Damn," Dean breathes, his eyebrows lifting in amazement. "I'm impressed. A little bit scared, but impressed."

"Me too." Sam states. "Good job Kayla."

I smile at them. "I was just waiting for a sign and there it was," I point to the paper. "In black and white."

Sam grins in return as Dean circles the table, he peers down at my multitude of notes and tries to decipher my chicken scratch hand writing.

He lifts one notepad and squints at it. "It's like it's a different language," he teases and I elbow him before I take back the pad.

"Shut up." I groan but I'm laughing as I say it.

"The guy casing the house makes sense now, they weren't expecting their attack dog to leave survivors," Sam says off to the side.

"Right, they were trying to insure that the plan went off without a hitch. Government douchebags." Dean grumbles.

"Wait, casing? Who was doing what to the house?" It's my turn to be confused again.

"They were watching the house, seeing if anyone was going to come by, waiting to see if you made it home."

"Oh." Because _that_ isn't a terrifying thought.

"So why didn't they finish the job?" Dean again.

"They probably thought they didn't have to, I mean you saw her that first night we got here, other than that lucky punch she landed to your nose, she looked like death warmed over." he pauses and immediately shoots me an apologetic glance. "No offense."

"None taken."

"So they weren't factoring us into the equation, because the poison more than likely would have finished her off that night if we hadn't been there." Dean concludes grimly, his knuckles white as he bunches his fists. "They were just going to send her home to die."

"But the hospital should have caught that; she would still have had a fever when they discharged her."

Dean is tight lipped as he retorts. "What do you want to bet somebody there was in on it?"

I'm back to staring intently at the picture of the governor, smiling and waving, his adoring crowd behind him. A flash of ice cold blue eyes entrap me as my finger travels the length of the page to rest of the strangely familiar face.

"Uh...guys?" They both turn towards me. "That's my nurse."

Dean's jaw sets hard and Sam suddenly looks angry as well.

"Guess we found our mole."

The sun starts to set behind us casting an orangish glow onto the table. Was the whole day gone already? It's been about ten minutes since we made our new startling discovery in the case and both the boys have been buzzing as I recall all my encounters with the nurse.

"I don't know," I begin. "We talked about a couple things, nothing important; mostly she adjusted my morphine drip, fed me a couple of times. She knew that I was going home alone and that I don't have parents, but she was nice to me, understanding. At least I thought she was." I break off and run a hand down my face. "I was unconscious most of those two days. Sorry guys, but that's all I can tell you."

"Kayla," Dean starts sweeping everything in his duffel as he talks. "This is really important, were you followed when you went out for a drive today?"

"What?" I pause. "No, I don't think so."

"Think, were there any strange cars following you at all?"

"No, why would you even ask that?"

"They think you are dead Kayla, they think all of their loose ends are tied up, if someone saw you today..." he breaks off. The way he is brushing everything into the gaping mouth of his duffel suddenly seems like a preemptive strike.

I want to tell him that he is being paranoid, ridiculous, stuff like that doesn't happen in Clovis NM, but the last couple days have come to redefine my definition of impossible. "I wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry. I don't think so, but I have no idea."

Sam looks worried as he shuffles around to stand by Dean. "Dean, if these people are willing to sacrifice a teenager girl to keep some fires at bay and gets some stupid votes, who knows what the heck they will do."

Dean looks disgusted as he shakes his head. "People man."

Sam just nods in response.

"Do you think we need to get out of here?" I ask quietly, hugging my arms to myself as if that will somehow keep me safe from all of the newfound horrors.

Dean crosses to the front window and peers out.

"I don't see anything," he says and when he turns back to me the grin on his face is forced. "I think we are okay, but just in case, Sam and I will keep an eye out."

Sam looks surprisingly good for having been bed ridden the previous day and I think it must be a Winchester thing, because Dean can go from looking like he is dead on his feet, useless save for his pretty face, to looking like a lethal killing machine, hell bent on destruction. It's chilling how fast his eyes can go dead.

I thank them under my breath before I excuse myself to turn and go up to my room. All this talk has made me paranoid that something or someone terrible is in the house so I switch on every light while I ascend the stairs, feeling better once all of the darkness is chased away.

I don't lie down with the intention of falling asleep, I just want to give my mind time to process the all the new information and how my life has yet again been turned upside down. The only safe haven I have had since my parent's death is now my prison. Sam and Dean's morbid words bounce around in my brain as I count the dots on the ceiling.

The next thing I know I wake up to a feeling that something isn't quite right as a flaxen haired women crawls into my window and lands onto my floor with barely a sound. I blink, trying to rouse myself from this weird dream and realize with a start that she is stalking towards me.

Shit, not a dream.

I roll out of bed and onto my feet as she glares at me.

"You just had to live through it all didn't you?" she asks circling me.

My eyes dart around the room, looking for a weapon of some sort.

"What are you talking about?" I shoot back as I start easing myself towards the door.

She picks up on what I am doing and moves that direction as well.

"Nothing. Just shut up." I can see now that there is metal glinting in her hand...a knife?

She rotates the hilt of the blade in her palm. A knife… That's just great.

"Look," I say as I take another step towards my door. "I don't know who you are or what I did to you, but if you put the knife down..." I break off and have a sinking feeling that I'm about to know what it's like to be stabbed.

"Nothing," she sobs. "You haven't done anything, but I...I have to." she rounds closer to me and I realize with a soft exhale of "dammit" we are going to bump right into each other.

I curse the day that I decided I wanted my bed closer to the window to let more sunlight in.

And apparently crazy blondes with steak knives.

She must realize it too, because she slows her stroll, holding the weapon out at arm's length with shaky fingers. "I'm sorry," she says as she raises it high. Thankfully her grip is weak and I manage to knock it out of her hands and to the floor.

We leap for it at the same time and I think, as she kicks me in the side with quite a bit of force, that I might have underestimated her. The blade goes skittering across the floor and disappears under my bed. My eyes lock with her panicked blue ones as I try to roll away from her.

Bad move. I end up on my back and before I can even process it her dainty manicured hands are wrapped around my neck in a vise grip.

Oh yeah, totally underestimated out of her mind Barbie...

I claw at her hands as tears run down her face. I can see she doesn't want to do this, but the pressure on my throat is overwhelming, I land a knee into her side and she falters for just a moment as I gasp in a lungful of air. Then with resolve in her tear-stained face and with my oxygen deprived brain unable to grasp what is happening and send a message to my body to protect itself she is back, all of her body weight pins me down and her hands form in a v shape into my trachea.

If you've never been choked before, I don't recommend it. It's what I imagine drowning to be like, except instead of the calm blue waters dragging you under its hard, warm, flesh that cuts off your right to breathe. But you still try because your survivor instinct won't let you go gently into that good night, so you end up looking like a beached fish gulping for air, any speck of it you can get. It's not enough, so your lungs tighten up and your body jackknifes and you make one last ditch attempt to save yourself that you know won't work but you have to try.

They couldn't have sent a skinny bitch, is the last thought that processes in my brain and of course it's sarcastic, before blackness floods my vision and I swear I can hear boots storming in my direction.


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N.: So I have of course taken a lot of medical liberties with this story, mostly because I have never had any of this happen to me. I've been choked out, I remember what it felt like, I didn't have to Google it. Not trying to earn pity or freak anyone out just letting you know that this part of the tale is told to the best of my recollection. As always thanks so much for reading and reviewing, I'm speechless with joy every time I see that someone has reviewed or favorited or read this. :D Bless all of you!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing, but this experience is mine.**

**Chapter 7**

"Kayla!" My name is barked out.

"How is she?" That voice is softer, but flooded with concern.

"I can't feel anything," a murmur and then there is a finger pressed into the side of my neck.

A heavy sigh. Sam. Sam and Dean?

"Anything?"

"I can't tell. My stupid hand is shaking, dammit!"

"You want me to,"

"No I got it, come on," desperation is laced in that voice.

"Did you?"

"Yahtzee!" The finger presses a bit harder and I feel my pulse flutter against his skin.

I sputter back into awareness, gasping for air as I am pulled up into an embrace; another hand reaches over and clutches my elbow. Mindless greedy gulping turns into harsh breathing as someone mumbles "Easy, easy." like I am a spooked horse.

"Sam is she..."

"She took a steel toed boot to the face Dean, she won't be getting up anytime soon." he confirms.

"Good." his voice sounds as harsh as the sounds I make as I come back a piece at a time.

Safe, I'm safe. Is Sam? Is he okay? What happened?

My whole body fights the urge to convulse as I struggle to realize that the girl no longer has her hands around my throat.

"The girl?" I croak out as Dean pushes away to look at me.

"She's okay Kayla, she's knocked out." the voice I recognize as Sam's states.

I nod into the leather and rasp "Good." not sure which fact I mean it for.

Deans' hands are at my throat, the tips of his knuckles brushing the skin.

Even that hurts.

"Sorry, just needed to check. You'll have some bruises, but..." he swallows hard. "It could be worse."

I raise a shaky hand to give him a thumbs up and he laughs, the sound wobbling as it escapes.

Another body moves by my side. Sam? Sam. Another set of hands check me. I feel like I am still drifting through blackness as Sam says. "She wasn't choked long enough for the trachea to close. Thank God."

"Only reason that bitch is still alive." Bitterness. Anger. Dean.

He moves from my side and I would have fallen if not for Sam's strong and steady hand on my arm.

Guess I am back to being weak and helpless, awesome.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Don't do anything crazy okay?" Sam pleads, always so worried for his brother.

There is a noise of something being hauled from the ground and swung into what sounds like my computer chair before he plops down back by his brother. I can just see the top of their heads, as I try to move my head down to get caught in those hazel eyes. It takes too much effort and the boys just watch me as I work to slow my breathing and will their image to stop swimming into a blob version of the Winchester brothers.

I gulp down another two deep lungfuls of air and finally feel like I can stand up. There is a hand held out to either side of me. I place one arm in both of them and I am lifted gently to my feet. I wonder briefly if I will ever be able to get back to a life free of bloodshed and horror and death before Sam lifts my eyelids, shining a pen light into them.

"The hell?" I grumble, pushing away from the light.

"Her pupils are reactive, I think we dodged a bullet," Sam states, tucking the light back into his pocket.

"You sure?" Dean lets go from behind to move in front of me and I sway, one hand catching on my bookshelf to steady myself.

"Yeah," Sam gives my arm a light squeeze. "I'm sure. She's going to be okay Dean."

A hand on my throat again, no pressure this time. I still flinch.

"Just has a necklace to show for it." he says, rage still evident in his voice.

"I'm a huge fan of jewelry," I cough out and both of them stare at me.

Sam snorts first, then Dean and finally me. In this line of work you have to take your joy where you can find it.

It's fifteen minutes later and my throat is still sore as all get out, but more words make their way past my abused windpipe.

"What happened?" I ask before I take a drink from my water bottle.

Dean nods his head towards his brother.

"Sam here thought he heard something upstairs so he came to check on you. Unfortunately he was slow moving and drugged, but I was coming in from packing up the Impala and heard you cry out. Got here just in time to save the day." his smile is forced and Sam looks almost guilty, like maybe he thinks it's his fault that he isn't in the condition to come flying up those stairs and save me.

I reach across and take his hand. "Thank you guys, you saved my life." I hiss out a quiet huff of laughter. "Again."

"Another thirty seconds and you would have stopped breathing. We were almost too late." Sam admits, his head bowed.

"Almost," I agree and squeeze the long fingered appendage in my hand. "But not too late."

His smile doesn't quite make it to his eyes as he nods, but it's enough. For now...it's enough.

"What about you?" Dean begins. "What was Blondie here doing in your room?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. I woke up and she was just there, coming in through the window. We fought and then she got on top of me and," I pause, the feel of phantom fingers biting into my skin still too close for comfort.

"Kinky." Dean snorts eliciting a roll of the eyes from Sam.

"Dean! Seriously man, you have a problem." The only thing the comment is missing is a waggling finger.

I chuckle, taking more comfort from these two loveable idiots than I am willing to admit.

If I had been alone...

"Then what happened?" Sam breaks me out of my thoughts as he urges me to continue.

"Right. Um...you guys came in. That's it."

I gesture to the unconscious blonde. "Is she going to be okay?"

Sam bobs his head. "Yeah, we are just waiting for her to wake up now."

I think back to her eyes, so young, so scared, and so conflicted. The eyes of a person trapped.

"I feel bad for her." I mumble, as Dean lets out another snort.

"You sure pick the wrong people to have a bleeding heart for Kayla." he grumbles as I meet his eyes.

They are tortured, haunted, hope glimmering just below the surface, the same eyes of his brother.

I shake my head sadly. "No, I pick the right ones."

Neither one of them have anything to say to that.

* * *

><p>When the girl finally wakes up Sam and Dean exchange looks before both moving off to the side. Sam leans in and whispers something in Dean's ear that makes him frown, before Dean takes my hand and leads me out of the room. I'm not really sure what is going on, but Dean has his mission face on again and I am not about to argue.<p>

At the bottom of the stairs he releases my hand, face dark as he moves away from me. My compassion doesn't quite make it past my fear as I watch him go.

I need something to do with my hands, so I start cleaning. I'm dusting in the living room when Sam emerges from my room, coming down the stairs; his eyes hold a world of pain as I greet him.

"Is she okay?" I ask.

He shakes his head and the door clicks as Dean comes back in from outside. Sam looks at a loss for words as Dean calls out. "Sam?"

He looks at his brother, drawing strength from the eldest Winchester, and takes a long, slow breath before he states. "We've got problems."

'Problems' seem like such an understatement for the mountain of shit we are being buried under.

"The girls name is Anne Winters, she is 19," Sam pauses and I know he is thinking the same thing that I am. So young...how does someone end up trapped so young?

"She uh...she met the governor on a chat site, he talked to her for several months, lying about everything, telling her about how special she is and how much he loved her and earning her trust. He started off asking her to do small things, not tell her dad about them, text him every night, you know just to see if she would listen. Then he started asking her to do more and more for him. She got nervous and scared and tried to bail." Sam's voice lapses into silence.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah sorry, um…anyway when she didn't do what he wanted her to do he told her who he really was and then he threatened her mother. Her mother has been in the hospital in Albuquerque with leukemia for close to a year now, getting better and then worse, trying to fight through the chemo but her family doesn't have the money for much more care, a couple of weeks at best and he promised her that if she did what she was told he would have her mother given the best care available for the rest of her life...if not," He stops his face turning grim. "Take a guess."

"Fucking bastard!" Dean growls, and slams his fist on the table.

Tears sting my eyes. "That's awful." I gasp and Sam gives a nod, his puppy eyes on full blast.

"So what do we do now?" I ask.

"I don't know." Sam shrugs "But we have to do something."

"What do you mean?"

"He means we need to get rid of her." Dean states.

"What?"

"That's not what I," Sam begins before being cut off by Dean.

"They are going to come looking for her and soon I would imagine." His stance is back to regimental, his eyes cold.

I rise out of my seat. "So we let her go, she can tell them I'm dead,"

"It doesn't work that way, we let her go and we're dead. I'm sure they aren't going to send another girl to check and see if the job was done right. And I don't know if you noticed, but we aren't exactly equipped to deal with thugs."

"The good news is, she didn't know about us Dean. She was supposed to kill Kayla and then burn the house down that way people would just think it was another tragedy, they wouldn't think twice." Sam retorts from his side of the table.

"Great, see?" Dean throws back as he turns towards me. "We let her go and she'll crack. I mean the whole thing sucks, but it's what needs to be done."

"No," I say quietly.

"So," he runs a hand through his hair. "I'll take care of this and then we pack up and go."

Sam starts to argue and I feel like I'm going to be sick.

"Dean, there has to be another way,"

"Sam! Look I don't like this either, but it's her or us," he pauses and something tells me if it ever came down to Sam vs. anything, Sam would always win.

"NO!" I bellow and slap a palm onto the table. Both brothers look up at me in surprise.

"This is _my_ fucking house and nobody is dying in it! If that means we have to get creative, bend some rules, do some crazy shit, than that's what we will do, got it!" I'm livid, my whole form shaking in anger.

Dean breaks the gaze first, Sam looks scared. Have they been around any women? Ever? Jeez...

"Scarier than Ellen," Sam whispers and Dean nods his head, his eyes wide.

I take their silence as agreement as I address Sam. "Sam, when was she supposed to meet up with him? Were they doing it over the phone or in person?"

"Um...In person. Tonight, after she finished the job she was supposed to meet up with him at the hotel. He said she could go home in the morning and everything with her mom's care would be arranged at the hospital." Sam rushes through the information.

Dean looks like he wants to hit something, a muscle working overtime in his jaw. "Sick fuck." he grits out and I am inclined to agree.

"Okay," I start, a plan already beginning to form in my head. "So if he has never met her, it's a good guess that he has no idea what she looks like, right?"

They both shrug with a look that says "duh."

"Sam, ask her what her profile picture was of." I order and Sam looks puzzled but trots back up the steps.

Dean stares at me confused, eyes tracing my face. What he is trying to read there I can't be sure and I might have asked but Sam comes back down at that exact moment.

"Well?" I urge.

"She said she was worried that no one would like her if she put up a picture of herself so she had a picture of true loves kiss from The Princess Bride."

"Dude!" Dean pipes up. "Love that movie! Rodents of usual size...classic." he shakes his head with a smile, looking years younger than he is.

Sam smiles back, just for a moment, his face softening. An unbidden image of Sam and Dean as children, fighting over a bowl of popcorn invades my mind, and I wonder if life was ever that simple for them.

I shake the image from my head, wiping the Winchesters as kids from my mind. Back to business.

"Okay good. That's perfect."

"For what?" Unison again. Did they know it was really creepy, or ridiculously cute? I haven't decided on which one yet.

"For me to go in undercover."

Deans face screws up with hatred of this plan and Sam looks at me with something akin to humor.

"I thought you said she was fine man." Dean hisses.

"She is." he retorts.

"Really because she seems pretty crazy to me. Like off her rocker type of crazy." Dean shoots back.

"You know I can hear you." I state, patiently waiting for them to quit their bickering. "You're like an old married couple I swear," I huff under my breath.

They both shuffle a couple of steps away from each other, crossing their arms over their chests. It's all I have in me not to laugh my ass off.

"Look I hate to agree with Dean here, but your plan is a little,"

"Crazy! It's crazy; it's had your head knocked around one too many times crazy."

I glare at Dean and choose to ignore his barb as I turn back towards Sam. "Look we disguise me, he has no idea what she looks like, and so it would be easy to pretend to be her. I avoid his goons, gather information, and find Bailey."

Sam cuts me off this time. "If he even has her." It is said gently, but the fact that his argument is discrediting my plan ticks me off a little bit. "Kayla, your plan is running on a lot of ifs. That's all I'm saying."

Yeah it is. If the governor doesn't recognize me, if he doesn't have Bailey, if he doesn't kill me just for the hell of it...oh yeah it's full of ifs, but it's all we have.

"If I can sell it Sam, it will work." I declare, daring him to challenge me.

Sam backs down, Dean doesn't.

"You're not going to be able to sell it; you're going to get yourself killed." Dean says, face stony.

"You don't know that." I reply, my comment heated.

He approaches me now, a breathe away.

"What good are you going to be to Bailey if you're dead?" he asks and his statement cuts me through the heart.

"What good am I to her here, chasing my tail?" I spit out before I can stop myself, rising up against him.

His hand shoots out and grips my arm, hard. "Can I talk to you for just a second?" The words are polite, the tone is not.

"Sure." I grit out and snatch my arm out of his grasp as he leads me to the laundry room.

He paces the floor before he lifts his head to stare at me with a bitter laugh.

"What is," he begins, shaking his head with another sharp chuckle. "You're a piece of work you know that?" It's not really a question so much as an insult.

I blow a breath out through my teeth. "Right back at you."

"You're not a professional, you're not a hunter, you're nothing but a scared little girl who's in over her head." he growls and keeps his distance, but his words hit home.

How dare he? HOW DARE HE! Just because he and Sam have been raised in this life it gives them the right to lay their lives on the line for each other. He should understand...the way he loves Sam, he should understand.

I can _feel_ my eyes go hard. "So let me make sure I've got this straight, it was okay for me to go with you to track down the Tascona, but I'm completely inept at this?" My voice rings out.

Dean glances at me before talking very slowly, as if I don't have the ability to comprehend what he is going to tell me. "The Tascona is a monster, a monster that Sam and I know a little something about, we could back you up and make sure you didn't get yourself killed, but this..." he breaks off, his hands clenching into fists. "You want to rush in like you're friggin Rambo and fight a monster we have no information on, put your life in the hands of chance."

"It's not your job to give me permission Dean, I'm doing it."

"Like hell you are." He is a few feet away from me and God, the man is stubborn.

"What do you care anyway? I'm not your responsibility, and you're leaving soon. You'll be out of my life and back to your own in no time." It's said bitterly and I honestly had no intention of those words coming out of my mouth.

Damn you, subconscious.

He stops pacing meets me head on. "What the hell do you want from me Kayla?" he asks and I'd be a moron if I didn't hear the sliver of uncertainty in his voice.

I want him to trust me, I want him to let me save my sister, I want him to be able to rely on me to help him and Sam for once, and I want _him_.

"The truth," I start. "I just want the truth."

"Truth?" he laughs "That's not really something I'm familiar with." He moves a little bit closer to me.

"Please," I sigh. And it's a request for so many things.

His answering sigh is so deep and heavy it makes me feel like maybe I've made the wrong move and then he speaks. "The truth is I like you okay."

Like me? I mean I like him, what's not to like, but what could he possibly see in me? Maybe he just feels an obligation to protect me. Some built in Winchester gene to try and save all those around them.

"You're funny, you're kind, you're tough, you're bullheaded, and you are easy on the eyes." he murmurs and I wonder, not for the first time, if he can read minds.

My mouth is unable to fathom a response as my heart turns into pudding in my chest.

"You're sexy especially since you have no idea you're sexy, you're smart, you're quick witted, and you have me opening up like a damn fortune cookie."

More silence from me, my mouth agape, oh yeah I'm all sorts of sexy.

"So yeah, I'm not too fond of the idea of you running headlong into trouble. But you seem to be hell bent on it. You're worse than Sam." he jokes and he looks clearly uncomfortable now that the moment of truth has passed.

I let out a dry chuckle at that as Dean inquires "Kayla?"

I nod before smiling lopsided at him. "Yeah? Sorry, I got kind of stuck on the 'you like me' part."

His smile is cute and shy as his hands cup my face. I didn't even know he could look shy.

"See, what did I tell you? Sexy." And this time when he kisses me, I am more than happy to return the favor.

It doesn't last nearly as long as I would like, my hands are just moving to curl up into his hair when a cough from our side breaks us apart.

Sam looks embarrassed and triumphant all at the same time as he says. "Oh sorry, I was just checking to see if you guys were done with your _conversation_." And the way he sucks back a laugh has me thinking for the first time he's definitely a _little_ brother.

I stumble backwards, away from Dean and his hands, feeling regret with every step I take. Dammit Sam, you have terrible timing.

Dean must be thinking the same thing because when he speaks up his voice is seething "Did you need something Sam?"

"No sorry, I'll just..." he doesn't finish the sentence just moves to get back out of the room.

We turn back towards each other and this time I place a hand on his chest and his fingers play with a rebellious lock of my hair.

"I can do this Dean." I say and hope it sounds as confident as I need it to.

"I know," the tip of his chin touches the top of my head. "I just don't want you to."

My heart clenches in my chest, but really there is nothing that can change my mind. It's not like he or Sam can take my place. We are running out of options and time and Bailey needs me. So I just whisper back. "I know."

* * *

><p>Thank God I'm a bit of a pack rat, I think as I dig through my closet, coming up with a blonde wig and a tube of fake tanner. For the first time since the split, I'm thankful my ex was a nut for Halloween and made us spring for the expensive costumes. The wig looks about as real as you can get besides actually having blonde hair. I'm pulling out different dresses I have when my body alerts me to another presence in the room. I don't even jump this time, I know its Dean.<p>

"Find what you were looking for?" he asks.

"Yeah," I turn to him, blonde wig in my hand. "I think so."

"Where the hell did you get all this stuff anyway? You have a secret job as a spy?"

I laugh. "I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

He grins. "So what's the plan Kayla?"

"The plan is for you to get out of here so I can change." I shoo him out the door.

I slide the lock into place and drop my clothes to the ground. Anne has told me everything she knows, and unfortunately, that one piece of vital information I need, that Bailey is alive is not one of those things. She is a little bit heavier than me, with long blonde hair, and tan skin. Her eyes are brown underneath her blue contacts; _blondes are prettier with blue eyes_ she had sobbed. Poor girl, she is just another person dragged into terrible circumstances by making one mistake. Her voice is higher pitched than mine and I have to practice several times before I get it almost perfect. She had called the governor right away and let him know that the job got a little messy and she is cleaning up and getting changed and would be a little late. She told him how sorry she was and that she would make it up to him. I am surprised by her ability to keep her cool since she is swallowing back bile as soon as the line disconnects.

The wig still fits very well, lying on my head like a golden halo as blonde ringlets curl around my shoulders. I attach a broad choker to my neck; I need something to cover up the bruises. I fluff the fake hair around my face and hear Dean say from the other end of the door. "So what, were you Barbie for Halloween?"

I chuckle into my palm. "What?"

"Well the blonde wig..."

"I was a zombie Paris Hilton."

He chortles from the other side. "Zombie Paris Hilton? Awesome."

"What did you dress up as?" I ask back.

There is a long pause.

"Dean?"

"Not really into the whole Halloween thing." he states.

"Why?"

"When you hunt people's worst nightmares it just doesn't hold the same appeal." he says.

"Yeah, I guess dressing up as Darth Vader would be pretty anti-climactic after you've bagged a baddie. Or whatever the hell you two end up hunting." I chuckle and slide into skin tight jeans.

"What haven't we hunted?" he calls back.

I shrug even though he can't see me. "I don't know, Casper?"

"Hey, that's not true. Been there, done that. That little bastard is far from friendly."

I giggle. "Oh really?"

"Well maybe not Casper. Sure as hell not the cartoony smiling gay looking blob version. You get the idea."

"Yeah." I retort. I'm beginning to.

There is a pause in the conversation as I zip up each of my boots. My mind can't even begin to conjure up when I am sure he and Sam have both seen.

As if he knows the turn that my brain has taken he coughs and then states.

"Anyway, I don't think I would ever be Vader, unless I got a light saber. That would be cool."

I adjust my hot pink tank top. "I see you more as a Han Solo."

"Yeah?" He questions. "I already have my chewbacca." he laughs.

"So the Impala is the Millennium Falcon." I muse.

"And you are," he pauses as I open the door with a smirk.

"Somebody has to save our skins,"

I can't read what's in his eyes as he leans in to close the door behind me.


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N.: So I'm posting this chapter today cause I'm going to be really busy the next couple of day and don't know when I will have a chance to post the next one. I need to go ahead and warn you that some of the subject material in this chapter may upset some people. The governor is not a good man and some not so nice things happen to Kayla. Consider yourself warned. That being said I'm proud of my work in this chapter and I hope that you enjoy it. Thank you so much for all of your support and reviews and reading all of the chapters! Bless all of you. :D  
><strong>**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Chapter 8**

Anne's' eyes widen as I come back into the room. She's still tied to the chair and there is a purple bloom on her cheek, but she looks less panicked then she did upon the previous interrogation as she gives me a once over.

"Wow." she breathes and I say "thank you." in a voice two octaves above my own.

Sam turns and immediately blushes, my outfit isn't exactly modest, but I know what the governor has requested. Pig.

"Kayla, you look uh..." he pauses, as he switches his gaze between me and Anne, gauging differences.

"I look?" I question and hope he can't find much fault.

"Almost perfect." he concludes.

Anne's' hands tremble as she pulls her contacts from her eyes and holds them out palm down.

"You're going to need these,"

I take the offering as I pull my glasses off and pop them in, thanking the heavens that they are prescription and not just for decoration. This whole thing is going to be difficult enough without going in blind.

"Thanks," I clasp her hand for just a minute. "Everything is going to be okay," I promise. She has just as much on the line as me. I need to nail this for both of us.

"Be careful. In the short time I've known the governor he's proven that he is scum. Don't get caught, please." She begs.

"I won't. Dean's going to stay here with you until morning, I'm sure you know why. If..." I stop myself from fidgeting. "When we get back, you can go home."

Her eyes fill with tears as she says. "Really?"

With her now brown doe eyes wet with tears she looks so young. She's suffered enough.

I grin as I take her hands in mine. "Yeah, really."

Dean follows me and Sam down the steps. He says something to Sam that doesn't reach my ears and then turns to both of us.

"I have a really bad feeling about this." he states.

Sam nods.

"I know. It's crazy, all of this is. But Sam is going to be there,"

"I should be there too," Dean says.

"Somebody has to watch her, make sure she doesn't muck up the plan," I don't really know when I became the rational one of this operation.

"Everything is going to go fine," I try to assure him.

"I'll call every hour," Sam says and waves his cell phone.

"We should stay together." Dean argues.

I glance at the clock, twenty minutes until I need to be there, and we still have to swipe the janitor keys for Sam.

"Dean, this is the plan. This is all we've got." I'm being short I know, but any more talk or his eyes or his voice and I'm backing out.

Sam claps a hand onto his brothers' shoulder as Dean says. "Be careful Sammy."

"Always." he replies with a smile and I know he hates this separation as much as I do.

"Dean," I turn back towards him at the door. "Just don't do anything...rash okay? She's been through enough."

His face softens, hard angles melting before my eyes into weariness and worry. He closes the distance between us with a couple of steps, and smiles sadly as he leans in to kiss the top of my now tanned forehead.

"See you in the morning." he whispers against my skin.

It's all I have in me to nod and follow Sam out of the door.

We've been in Anne's' car driving in silence for five minutes, with me nervously clicking my fake nails against each other, when Sam says from beside me.

"You're good for him."

"You think?"

"Yeah, he's probably fifty percent less of an ass when he's with you," he chuckles softly. "Well less of an ass to me."

I laugh under my breath. "How did you get him to agree to this anyway?"

Sam shrugs. "I promised him we would both come back."

I continue clipping the side of the steering wheel with my fingers. "And we will. Everything is going to be just fine." My voice wavers as I speak.

Sam grabs one of my hands.

"Look Kayla, you really can't afford the luxury of being nervous." He looks like he regrets having to tell me this.

I still my shaking hands and wonder how many times Dean and him have had this conversation.

"Okay," I get out of the car in front of the hotel and we have five minutes to spare.

"Hey," his hand is on my shoulder as he walks up behind me. "I'm going to be here the whole time, you're not alone, and nothing is going to happen."

"I know. I trust you." And I do. He and Dean have saved my life multiple times now. I just wish Dean was here too, even if it was to drag my dumbass kicking and screaming back to the car.

"You know what you're doing?" he asks and I turn to him with a blinding smile.

When I speak again my voice is the high pitch of Anne Winters. "I got this."

Sam's' smiles encouragingly. "I think you do."

* * *

><p>We split up in the hotel, he needs to track down a set of janitor keys so he looks the part, he pats my shoulder once and I move past him and to the elevator, checking my face in the mirror in my (or rather Anne's') purse and I'm happy to say I don't look a thing like myself. I squint against the strength of the contacts as I try to make my face smooth out.<p>

The door that looms in front of me appears as threatening as the man inside. I raise my hand and knock.

"Come in," a male voice calls as I slip into the room.

The governors' kind round face, now twists into lust and a thousand of other minute emotions that make my stomach turn as he beckons me to the bed.

"Anne, so nice of you to join us,"

My eyes do a quick sweep of the room. There are body guards sitting on the opposite side, mostly separated by a door that closes off the suite to a side room.

"Sorry I'm late," I squeak in what I pray is a good imitation of Anne's' voice.

"Did you get the job done?"

"Yes I just,"

"Sweetheart, I don't care about the fires," he looks me over and dismisses his men with a wave of his hand. "It just seemed fitting, but how smart of you to notice the neighbors were out and about and would have seen," he pats the bed as I sink down to it.

His breath is in my ear as he whispers. "You look stunning."

Kudos to me for not throwing up, I giggle instead.

"Are you nervous?" he asks, tilting my chin up to meet his face.

"Yes." I stutter and duck my head back down.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," he breathes clapping his hands as the room plunges into darkness.

I gasp as rough hands rove my body for several seconds, hoping it sounds like a gasp of pleasure and not of revulsion.

A knock sounds to my right and I thank God, Buddha, Tom Cruise, whoever has stopped this assault as he mutters. "Dammit," The bed dips for just a second as he gets up.

One of his men peers into the darkness; the crack from the door lets in a sliver of light as I lean over and click the night stand light on.

"What!" he spits at the broad shouldered gentlemen.

"Sorry, the champagne you wanted got delivered to our room by mistake."

"Oh," he smiles and then lowers his voice.

I have to stop my breathing completely to be able to hear him.

"Is the girl still safe?"

"Yeah, safes as houses." he says.

I stretch out across the bed in what I hope is a sexy position, straining to hear the rest.

"Good, I don't need any hitches in this plan, by this time next week I want to leave this shithole in the dust. If I never have to step foot in this place ever again," he shudders. "It will be too soon."

The other guy nods and then the doors close again and he faces back towards me, his countenance almost predatory.

He holds the bottle out at arm's length and gives it a shake. "Shall we?" he smiles and I grin coyly back.

"I don't really drink," I say softly and he laughs.

"You're adorable." he says and pulls me to my feet.

I force a gay laugh, spinning away from him and landing on the bed.

"Playing hard to get?' he questions as he pops the cork out of the top of the bottle.

"No," I bat my eyelashes at him as he pours two glasses.

He raises his up in a toast and I join him. "To us." He declares, taking a large gulp from his glass.

I repeat the sentiment and daintily sip from the top of mine.

He guides me back to the bed, taking another healthy swig.

"You are so," he begins tracing my jaw with his fingertips.

I feign shyness again and flinch away.

His face changes again, it turns ugly as his free hand snaps out and grips my wrist.

"I told you how this was going to go," he growls. "If you are a good girl you get to go home tomorrow, but you _will_," the pressure tightens on my wrist and I bite my lip so I don't cry out. "Do what I told you to do."

"Of course!" I exclaim, "I'm just nervous, I'm sorry," I meet his eyes and will Anne to show through them.

His grip loosens as his mouth twists up in a smile. "And you have every right to be," he pats my shoulder, gently, almost fatherly. "This is a big night."

I smile up at him as he downs the rest of his glass before he strips off his suit jacket and pulls his tie loose from his neck.

I click off the light and whisper. "For both of us."

His body weight pins me down and his lips are sloppy on mine, I close my eyes and pretend I am somewhere else and not here with this monster. Bailey, you so owe me for like forever I think as his words begin to slur together and his movement becomes sluggish.

His hands are coarse as he tugs my shirt down, his palms finding purchase in the dip of my cleavage. His moan is lecherous and lethargic as his lips catch on my earlobe. His teeth bite down on the skin as I let out a soft hiss. Abruptly his movements start to slow and then he is snoring on top of me, trapping me under his body. Thank God for Sam and his "champagne" I think as the governor slides off of my body and to the side. If I shower for the rest of my life I will still never been clean of this filth. As I crawl away from him I think about stabbing him, driving a nail file into his jugular and watching as his wretched life spills out on the carpet. There is a noise at the door, a soft almost indiscernible noise, but I know its Sam. I tiptoe over and let him in.

"Perfect timing," I say quietly as Sam looks me over.

I am suddenly very conscious of my disheveled looks. I adjust the shirt and try to straighten the wig, so very thankful that everything had stayed put.

"Are you okay?" he asks and reaches out to touch me.

I don't mean to, but I shy away when his hand comes into contact with my arm.

"Sorry." he huffs and moves away from me.

"Christ," I breathe softly. "I'm sorry Sam, it's just..." I break off with a shiver.

"It's okay," he says, sliding his phone out of his pocket.

"How long is he going to be?"

"Hopefully until tomorrow morning." he sighs and speaks into the phone. "Hey Dean, it's me."

I can hear the agitation on the other end of the phone when he replies. "What took you so long?"

Sam lets out a breath. "I was kind of doing my job Dean."

"Well how did it go?"

Sam's eyes slide over to me and I will him to lie. Please lie, lie for me, lie for Dean.

"About as well as can be expected." he says finally.

There is a sharp intake of air from the other end before Dean says flatly. "Let me talk to Kayla."

I shake my head as Sam says. "Dean, I think maybe,"

"Now Sam!" he barks as Sam holds the phone at arm's length with an apologetic glance.

I take a steadying breath, before letting out a cheery, but hushed. "Hello."

"What happened?"

"Everything went according to plan." I start. Minus me almost getting raped...

"What happened Kayla?" Leave it to Dean to cut through the crap.

I force my voice to sound okay. "Dean, its fine. I'm fine. He's passed out, everything is okay,"

Sam holds his hand out for the phone, motioning for me to give it to him.

I listen to Dean who is still irritated and threatening to come out there as I hand the phone back over to Sam.

"Dean, hey it's me. She's fine, she did good. No really. Yeah, how is, good that's good. We'll see you in the morning. You too man." he hangs up and turns back to me. "You just have to know what to say." he states with a shrug.

"How do you do that?" I ask.

Sam smirks and for just a minute he looks a lot like Dean. "Didn't you know I'm the Dean whisperer?"

My laugh comes out as more of a sob as Sam slips one arm around my shoulders. He tells me without uttering a word how sorry he is that I had to do this.

Not like he or Dean could have taken on this particular task. They are both pretty, but I suspect the governor would have felt something was amiss. With Bailey gone, I was the only…

Bailey, Oh God, Bailey.

"Sam," I gasp as he pulls away. "Bailey's alive."

My smile this time is genuine as it splits my mouth open.

* * *

><p>Sam helps me mess up the room and fabricate a story about what happened in the hours the governor wouldn't be able to account for.<p>

He keeps looking at me sideways, checking for signs of mental damage I'm sure and I can only pray I look stable as I smear lipstick across the sleeping man's collar. My fingers itch to press a thumb into his trachea and end his life. The uncertainty of Bailey's fate stops me as I wiggle his pants down to his ankles.

Sam's head cocks to the side as we both listen to steps sounding from outside.

"Who is that?" I ask, popping off the governors cuff links and sending them sailing across the floor.

"Bodyguards? Maids? I don't know."

Another few seconds pass as the feet stop outside of our door. Sam and I hold our breath and wait.

"How the hell should I know? Haven't heard a peep. Yeah, I know he's not usually quiet." A unfamiliar voice booms from the hallway, interrupted by the grainy noise of a walky talky.

Sam flattens himself against the wall and holds a finger to his lips.

"Go in there? For what? If he is getting to know someone biblically I just… fine, I'll go in."

My eyes dart to Sam's in panic before I thrust one of my fists into the unconscious man's stomach. He groans low and swings out on instinct sending the lamp from the nightstand crashing to the floor.

I take a deep breath and make a noise that would have made a porn star blush before pounding the headboard for good measure.

There is an unbearable silence for several seconds before the guy outside laughs.

"Bernie, you couldn't _pay_ me enough money to go in there right now. Oh yeah, he's having a good time." The man chuckles again before his heavy footfalls shuffle away from the door.

Sam looks down at me sprawled across the other man's body. "Shit, that was close. Good thinking."

"Yeah," I start as I look away from him. "Can't let you get all of the glory."

Sam chortles before his face grows serious. "Kayla, I'm sorry, but I have to get out of here. Are you okay?" Sam glances towards the door and then back towards me.

Oh yeah I'm fine, leave me here with the rapist and scum that took my sister, I got this.

I shake off my emotions; I can't afford to feel like this when there is a job to do. I can't put Sam in any more danger than he is already.

Sam points to his watch. "It's six am now, you have about another hour before he should wake up, I'll meet you out in the car at seven thirty."

"Okay," I grin at him.

"Try not to be late or Dean will have my head." he grimaces and my smile gets bigger.

"See you guys soon."

"Yeah. Kayla, be careful okay?"

I wave off his concern with a strained. "Of course."

Please leave now. Please, before I fall to pieces.

Sam is not as calm as he appears, his face pulled tight with unease as he reaches out a hand out to me, stopping within inches of my shoulder.

God, the things that we have sacrificed, the things that are taken from us.

He stops his movement and starts to take his hand back to his side but I reach out and grip it first. The only things that are taken from us are the things that we allow to be.

Sam looks shocked and I feel very uneasy just with this amount of contact, but _this_, I twist my fingers into his fist to emphasize my point, this is not the hand of a murderer, or a monster, _this_ is the hand of a good man.

I smile, my fingers trembling in his. "Thanks for saving me Sam." I force my fingers to tighten around his in a show of affection. "Again."

"You're...uh...you're welcome." Sam stutters.

I hold onto his palm and then when I can't take that contact anymore I grip his denim clad elbow, still needing to hold onto something.

He doesn't say anything when I finally let go, just bows his head and disappears through the door.

I toss my shirt onto a chair, rumple up my side of the bed before I force myself to crawl back into the bed with Rich Kippling.

An hour later he curls into my side and my skin literally tingles with disgust.

Fake it, fake it, fake it. I chant in my head as he nuzzles my the side of my face and pants hot breath into my neck.

Moments later he wakes up, peering down at me with bafflement clear on his face.

"What happened?" he mumbles groggily, taking in the sight of the room.

"Happened?" I hope it sounds an innocent as I need it to.

"Yes," he pauses, lines creasing in his face.

"Just the best night of my life." I purr, pressing a quick kiss into his exposed collarbone. I get out of the bed and pick up the fallen lamp, as I snag my shirt and slip it over my body.

Take the bait, take the bait, please for the love of God take the bait.

He's looking around at the disorder of the room, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as they travel my body. I'm afraid to move, to breathe until I know that our plan has worked. I spy my frozen figure in the mirror. My hair is in disarray around my head, my bra is hanging from the TV, love bites stick out red and heated across my skin. I fight the urge to cross my arms over my body as if that will hide the evidence of this asshole touching me. Instead I leer at him and run a hand down the front of my body. He stares at me hungrily; mind hopefully providing the images I need him to believe happened. His face pinches at the sides as he rises out of the bed in a rush to get to me, almost tripping on the pants that pool around his ankles.

"I don't really," he begins, scrubbing a hand over his face.

I gesture to the bed. "It was really wild," I say and bite my lip.

"There was the champagne and then..." he breaks off and I know he's looking for something to be out of place.

I move towards him, curling one arm around his neck. Hoping by molding my body to his he will forget what he can't remember.

"It was great," I whisper and he yanks me back.

Something tells me he doesn't like feeling out of his element. I'm sure of that fact as he pulls me up close and his lips transform into a sneer.

I'm not expecting the backhand to my face as I catch myself on the side of the bed.

"Of course it was great honey," he's smiling that same demented grin and I can only imagine how many other girls he has hit, beaten, raped...

I can't think that, can't think that or I'll kill the bastard right here and now. Then how will I find Bailey?

I try to stay in character as I let out a soft sob. He instantly looks gratified.

I glance at the clock. Its 6:15 am "Can I go?" I ask timidly.

He turns his face towards me as I cower terrified on the bed.

"Why would I let you go?" he sneers.

Dread digs icy fingers into my heart.

"But I did..." I break off, not sure that I can sound like Anne if I start to cry.

"Everything you were told? What do you say we try a repeat performance, it feels too much like a dream to me." he whispers, stalking back towards me.

I'll kill him; I swear I'll kill him.

His hands grab my shoulders hard; his mouth curls up into a twisted smile that he aims at me.

"Second time around is always better," he murmurs, and only by the grace of God above does the door to the right open at that exact moment.

He turns his head with a growl. "What is it now?" He yells, and shoves me to the floor in his anger.

A burly man who I assume is one of his body guard state. "It's your wife sir, she's in the lobby." the guy backs away from the governor like he's an attack dog.

"That bitch. She has the worst timing." he grumbles. "I'll be right there."

He spares me barely a glance as he heads over to the door.

It's stupid of me I know, but I can't help myself from squeaking out. "My mother?"

He whirls on me. "What about her?"

"The hospital?"

He pulls me to my feet and crushes his mouth to mine in a bruising kiss.

When he pulls back he licks his lips and I force a smile on my face.

He looks around the room one more time, grinning at his lipstick smeared collar.

"I guess you earned it." he groans, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. "I'll call the hospital as soon as I get done talking to my wife. Now don't go doing anything foolish sweetheart, you say anything to my wife and I'll make sure your mother doesn't make it to next week."

"Yes Sir. Thank you." I say, impressed that I am able to swallow back the bile.

"Pity, you can't stay longer," he says and closes the door behind him.

I gather my stuff so fast I'm surprised I don't trip and then I am out the room, down the stairs and in my car.

* * *

><p>The only thing I know is the sound the car makes when it starts up and that there is a hand at my wrist. I choke on the scream in my throat.<p>

"Kayla, it's just me." Its Sam sprawled across the back seat his fingers letting go of my wrist now.

Then there is me, frantically gunning the engine and trying not to burst into hysterics.

"Just put the car in reverse and drive away." Sam's' voice is my anchor as I feel my hand shift the car into reverse and I drive away from that awful place.

When my house comes into view my hands start to shake, and by the time the car is turned off I am shuddering in the front seat. Sam's hand comes around my side to pull the key from the ignition.

"Kayla?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay," I'm anything but okay, but my mouth utters the words nonetheless.

Sam is out of the car now, moving to the driver's side door to let me out. I manage to get to my feet and shove Sam's body out of the way seconds before my body doubles over and I purge myself of everything in my stomach.

Sam's hand hovers above my back giving comfort without touching me.

Please, I pray, please go inside. Let me fall apart alone.

He doesn't and a small, sane part of me is thankful for Sam's' gentle nature as he waits for me to be done.

Finally I wipe bile and saliva from my lips and Sam steps away from me as I straighten my form.

"Sorry," I mumble and walk with him up to the door.

He looks at me like he means to ask 'what for' but I cut in front of him to get in the door.

I just want to shower for the rest of the day, scrub myself raw, and cry where no one will see me.

"I'm going to take a shower," I sigh as Sam watches me.

"I'll fill Dean in," he says and I am halfway to the bathroom before I notice the other man staring at me from the top of the stairs.

"Kayla," he says and I raise my head to meet his eyes.

"Hey Dean," I try to smile but Dean must see something other than falsehood shining in my eyes.

"Are you," he begins.

"Fine. Everything's fine, I'm just fine." Robotic, just like me.

I try to push past him to get to the hall, but Deans reaches out and crushes me to his chest.

I want to tear away, run, claw at him, do anything but succumb to the embrace.

"I'm sorry." he murmurs into my blonde wig as his hands move to pull it off.

My whole body seizes up as I shove him away from me.

"Don't!" I yell and Dean's eyes full of sadness shift to Sam and then back to me.

I'm shaking again and I need to get out of these clothes, and away, away from those eyes.

"I'm sorry. Not now, just don't." I'm mumbling nonsense as I rush down the hallway and into the bathroom. I rip my clothes from my body like they are the ones that have offended me and step under the hottest spray I can stand from the shower.

I punch the tile, satisfied at the stream of blood that runs from my busted knuckles. At least it is an injury that I had a choice in.

I must have been in there a long time because someone is knocking on the door.

"Kayla, you don't have to talk to me, just let me know you're alive in there." Dean. He sounds worried.

"Yeah!" I call out into the cold water. How long have I been in here anyway?

"Okay, okay, that's good." his voice is muffled from the other side of the door.

He slumps up against it and I can hear him slide down to the ground.

"Sam won't tell me what's going on. You're freaking me out a little bit," he laughs, the sound holding no humor in it.

With the barrier of the door between us and no way of skin or touching I get out of the shower and grab my robe, sliding down to the floor on my side of the door. It's easier to talk this way.

I know it's not his fault, not Sam's either; in fact if anyone is to blame it's me. I'm the one who assured them I could do this...I'm the one coming apart at the seams.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just needed to..." I break off not knowing what I needed just knowing I needed _something_.

"After a hunt, I, uh...usually drink or screw," he pauses as I chuckle.

"Not recommending that for you, just, ah hell, I don't even know." the back of his head thunks on the door.

We are both completely out of our element and my heart beats furiously in my chest.

"Why do you care so much?" I inquire; half hoping he doesn't hear me.

He doesn't say anything in response just sighs softly and then he is gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N.: Hello again. In case you are keeping up with this tale we are on Chapter 9 now. This is mostly a recovery chapter and nothing too major to the plot happens (we find out where Bailey is) but other than that just some bonding and snark. I hope you enjoy anyway. Also if you have never played "Gears of War" in my opinion, you don't know what you're missing. :P For those of you who want to see some Kayla/Dean goodness, be patient…you only have to wait one more chapter. Thank you for your continued support, it means more to me than I can put in mere words. *hugs* You guys are the best.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

**Chapter 9**

I get dressed slowly, checking myself in the mirror and realize suddenly that my computer chair is strangely vacant. Did they let Anne go? Did I know about this? I can't remember...

I end up in jeans and a loose t-shirt before checking out my face in the mirror. My lip is split from the backhand and my necklace still covers my bruises. When I pull the choker down I can see the faint outline of fingers tips against my windpipe. I can't do anything about that though, I need to find out what information Sam has collected. I wonder if this is how the Winchesters carry on as I put my game face on and head down to command central.

Three pairs of eyes track me as I move into the living room. So I guess Anne is still here.

"Oh my god!" she gasps and runs over to me. Her eyes scan my face, taking note of the injury there. "I'm so, so sorry." she whispers.

So this happening to me means it didn't have to happen to her? Okay, silver lining.

"Go home Anne. Your mom is going to be taken care of and your family is waiting for you,"

She nods and gulps down her tears before pulling me into a tight hug. "Thank you, thank you _so_ much."

I pull away. "Change your number, as soon as possible. Move, change your name, do what you need to do to keep you and your family safe. It's up to you now."

She looks me over again, paying close attention to the way I have my arms wrapped around myself. As if that will keep out the terrible thoughts and feelings that are gnawing away at me.

"I will, I promise I will." She swears. "Thank you," she turns to the boys with a faint smile. "Thank you all so much."

She gives me a swift kiss on my cheek before she disappears out the door.

Sam and Dean watch me. I feel numb. Dean approaches me.

"You look like Kayla again," he starts and I back up a step without even thinking about it…Directly into a streak of sunlight.

"Son of a bitch." he spits out, hand moving to touch the cut in my lip.

It doesn't hurt, but I wince anyway.

"Tell me what happened."

"Nothing," I groan, pushing away his hands.

"Nothing my ass!" He moves towards me again. "You have a split lip and don't want anyone to touch you, tell me what happened." he insists.

"I already told you nothing happened. Back off." I bite out.

"Dean, I think you should," Sam is talking from the side.

"Kayla," he starts, his voice winding around me like an embrace I so desperately need and can't accept.

But it's his eyes that break me, a hurricane of emotions brewing in them. I take a quivering breath.

"Don't make me." I whisper. "Please don't make me." my voice is the epitome of despair.

Dean stops moving. "Kayla?"

I lift up tear bright eyes to him. "Just don't." I say again.

He sighs, his hands dropping to his sides, his feet stepping away from me now.

"I'm going to kill that bastard." he declares.

I choke out a bitter laugh. "Get in line."

* * *

><p>After the breakdown of the case reveals that the ritual is happening tomorrow night, roughly around midnight, Sam tells me that he has found out it is being performed at Ned Houk Park. And thank God, he also learned that Bailey is going to be there.<p>

This week has been hell, for my body, for my mind, for my heart, and when the boys state that they are going to case the park and will be back later I let out a loud pent up sigh and sink into my couch. I've never needed my family so much in my whole life. I start to cry and soon my exhaustion and heartache have pulled me under into comforting oblivion.

My dreams are upsetting and involve me and Bailey being attacked and I have no way to save her. I am completely trapped up against a post, knives digging into my sides. And where the hell are Sam and Dean? Somebody has to save her!

I wake up screaming and the two figures across from me jump up into defensive positions as I stumble to my feet.

"Bailey," I mutter, reaching a hand out to grab onto something. "She's in trouble."

"Whoa Kayla, it's okay, you're safe. We're here." Sam? Dean? I can't tell which one it is as I am guided to sit back down.

I slow my breathing, jolting my head free of the horror that had played out in my dreams.

"When did you guys get back?" I pant.

"About thirty minutes ago." Sam replies. "We didn't want to wake you up."

"Are you okay?" Dean inquires and I can see now the concern that blazes from his eyes.

"Tell me what you found out at the park." I declare, ignoring the question about my wellbeing.

They both inform me that there is an area of the park closed off for the governors' personal use and that police offers were circling the place. They couldn't get close enough to see except what it is that they were guarding, but it was definitely where the ritual was going down, and it's where Bailey would be.

As soon as they finish distributing the facts, I excuse myself and go out into the garage and lay into my punching bag, trying to disperse some of my rage. I remember the day after Christmas when my Dad and I had set it up. I remember the conversations, fights, disputes that had happened before I would come out here and tear it up. I remember my father holding me when my anger had run its course and given way to sorrow.

Through my grunts I hear the boys stop outside the door and argue about who should go talk to me. Sam's' argument 'you're the one who likes her.' and Deans' 'you're the one with a vagina.' I smile through my tears at that one when I hear what sounds like fists hitting palms and then a muttered. "Son of a..."

What the heck was that about? I don't hear anything else for another couple of minutes as my concentration goes back to beating the hell out of the bag.

I'm just hitting my stride, landing punch after punch after punch when the door opens. Is it Sam or Dean?

"I just thought you might want," I turn and he is holding a water bottle in one hand.

"Dean, I appreciate what you are trying to do really, I just," I reply rolling my stiff shoulder.

He holds both hands up in surrender. "What can I do?" he asks.

I sigh. Stupid, stubborn Winchesters. "Hold the bag?" I suggest with a shrug as he strips his over shirt, and walks over to grab the bag on both sides.

In just his t-shirt he looks great, but that is a secondary thought as I pummel the bag even harder this time, panting in exertion by the time we are finished.

"Better?" he asks.

"Yeah," I wheeze, wiping sweat from my forehead and yanking my saturated shirt from my head. "I'm too tired to be traumatized now." I moan and start to fan myself.

Embarrassment flashes briefly across Dean's face as I realize I'm just in my sports bra and jeans now.

"Sorry!" I yell, snatching my shirt from the floor and pulling it up to my chest.

"Uh..." he starts flustered, his eyes looking everywhere but at me.

My head gets stuck in the arm hole and when I make a soft strangled noise Dean looks back at me before he promptly bursts out laughing.

I want to get angry or embarrassed or something, but his laugh is contagious and soon I am almost falling over with the force of my guffaws.

"God, I feel like I'm going crazy," I state in between hiccups.

Dean stops laughing for just a second, meeting my eyes as he says. "Congratulations, you're officially a Winchester."

It's the best compliment he can pay me, I know. I grin widely at him when I reply. "Can I hyphenate that?"

Sam looks completely out of place when we both come back in from the garage; he's standing in the middle of the kitchen, watching us with all the curiosity of a puppy. Its uncanny how much he really does look like a puppy dog, a big, Sam sized puppy dog. I was going to miss them so much when they left.

"Everything okay?" he finally inquires and the look on his face makes me want to run and give him a hug.

Instead I nod and grant him what I hope comes across as a hopeful smile. "Oh yeah, everything's just great. What's for lunch?"

He looks flabbergasted as I snag an apron from one the kitchen hooks.

"It's a rule in my family that you don't stand in the kitchen if you don't want to end up cooking in it." I say slipping the apron over his confounded and ridiculously high sitting head.

Dean thinks it's hilarious, less though when I walk up behind him and give him the same treatment.

"Not funny Kayla," he grits out.

I have to disagree, it's pretty damn funny.

I take a mental picture as Dean says "Looking good Martha Stewart."

"Right back at you Rachel Ray." Sam retorts dryly.

I don't even bother asking how they know who those two are; the Winchesters are always surprising me.

Lunch, it turns out, is chicken strips. As I bustle around the kitchen, making the batter and frying them up, I can't wait until Bailey is home and I can make them for her.

Dean and Sam shed the aprons, but help out in the kitchen and they are surprisingly good at cooking, or at least they are good at pretending. Dean hums as he does dishes and it's something I wish I could see for years to come.

After lunch we go back out to the shooting range, and this time I don't need any coaching from either of them. All I have to do is think of Rich Kipling's smug face and I hit every single bull eye.

I notice that both Sam and Dean make sure not to touch me and to have come so far just to be back at square one makes me sad.

* * *

><p>Dean and Sam spar in the living room for almost an hour before they notice me watching and tell me that maybe it is a good idea that I pick up this skill too. Unfortunately this skill is one that suffers from being fueled by rage and it takes me quite some time to not just strike out in anger. I have to focus and think ahead to where my opponent is going to strike. I only ever best Sam, never Dean, and I really think that is because Sam lets me win.<p>

Although I do notice when he pauses to take a breath his hand goes to cradle his ribs. Dean notices it too as he passes him an ice pack and tells him to sit down.

This day goes slower than most, there is nothing left to do other than play the waiting game and by dinner time, after making myself and the boys a PB and J I bust out the Xbox controllers. Sam and Dean look at me like I'm from another planet as I inquire "Gears?"

Turns out in their entire lives the only game system they had ever played was a super Nintendo and that was years ago. Sam had the opportunity again at Stanford, an interesting story I'm sure, but he was always more of an intellect and his time off was spent reading.

"Nerd," Dean teases, but it hasn't escaped my eyes that his tone is a shade darker at the mention of college.

Dean never had the patience or the time for video games, him and Sam only really having an idea about Mario world. I'm the only one that seems to think it's ironic that the game is about two brothers saving a princess.

When we play Gears it is the first time I feel like I'm going to school them for once, and I do. Sam picks up the controls faster, but stays behind cover most of the game, Dean just goes in guns a blazing and I cover his ass. The third time I pick him up and then turn and chainsaw a gruesome creature in half he drops the controller and stares at me in awe.

"Dude," he breathes and I'm grinning ear to ear.

"It's not a big deal." I state. Although it feels better than I'd like to admit that the slack jawed expression is on his face for once.

Sam rounds on one of the enemies, systematically taking it out with his shotgun.

Dean continues to stare at me with his mouth agape and then he utters. "You're awesome."

I add blush to my face as I turn back to the game to cover Sam. Too bad it isn't this easy in real life.

I'm feeling almost human by the time the boys' tire of the game, Sam keeps rubbing it in Dean's face that he is way better at Gears than his older brother. Dean huffs and slugs him on the arm as he snuggles down into the couch. "I let you win."

"Really? You _let_ yourself get ganked a dozen times?"

"All part of the plan Sammy."

Sam sighs. "Part of what plan Dean?"

Dean smirks at his little brother. "The plan to not make you cry in front of Kayla." He rises and grabs the empty plate in front of him before retreating to the kitchen.

Sam and I share a 'Yeah right' look before the younger of the Winchesters gets up and trots off toward the kitchen.

Dean is rinsing off a plate and as Sam passes him he aims the nozzle at his younger brother, grinning gleefully as Sam lets out a yelp of surprise.

I can't help but wish that Bailey was here to celebrate with me as I watch Sam lob a wet sponge towards Dean's head. I wish Sam and Dean could stay, Mom and Dad were here, that we had more time… wishing for so many things.

The day comes to a close when Sam nods off on the couch where he's reading his father's worn leather bound book. I watch him with a soft snort as he loses the fight with fatigue and succumbs to the embrace of sleep. Dean doesn't look much better.

"That was fun." Dean says tiredly and the tone indicates that there is not much of that in their lives.

I remember belatedly that I wasn't the only one who had a rough night last night.

Sam's' head drops off to the side, and Dean blinks slowly, his face lit up by the soft light emanating from the TV. By the time I have the game turned off and everything put away both of them are sleeping, side by side. Even in sleep Dean has an arm perched precariously by his brothers' shoulder, always ready should something threaten them. It's endearing, seeing these two men restored to innocent in sleep. Any doubt I have crowding my heart from that bastard is wiped away looking at them dozing, knowing at the core of me that I have nothing to fear from either of them. I throw a blanket across their unconscious forms and stretch out on the loveseat. Maybe it's my growing feelings for them, or the fact that every time I am alone something terrible happens, but I can't quite bring myself to go up those stairs.

* * *

><p>When I wake up the clock glares back four a.m. towards me. I sit up and take in Sam still asleep, his legs propped up on the coffee table and then the oddly empty spot besides him. I get up and search the house for Dean, first checking the kitchen and the laundry room, before the glint of his necklace catches my eye. He is out front, standing at the trunk of the Impala. He spots me in the window and I wave. He hesitates for a moment before he waves back.<p>

As I join him in the driveway I can see that he is engrossed in whatever he is doing at the trunk of his car.

His fingers dance over one of his guns, his skin coated in oil. The magazine comes out in one fluid motion as he taps it against the gun before sliding it back in.

His eyes twitch up in my direction as he states. "Hey."

"Everything okay?" I ask as I come to stand at the side of the car.

"Yeah." he states.

"Can't sleep?" I shake my head with a snort. "Sorry dumb question."

"I got a couple of hours." He replies.

"Good." I start. "Can I help?"

"Nah, it's just something I do…" he breaks off and I hear the unspoken 'when I'm nervous.'

The porch light illuminates his face bringing his worry and concern and anxious into view and it's all I can do not to reach for him, wanting to supply him with some sort of comfort.

"Hey, can I show you something?" I ask, an idea sprouting in my mind.

His eyebrow raises and there is trepidation in his voice when he answers. "I guess."

I trot over to the front door, open it up and flick the light off, bathing the front yard in darkness.

Dean's voice is confused when he asks. "Kayla?"

My hand finds his in the dark, fingers intertwining as I say, "Look up."

His face tilts towards the heavens and I can just make out his jaw dropping.

"God," he breathes softly and as my face joins his tilting upwards I think the same thing.

Sure Clovis is a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere, but we do have a spectacular view of the stars.

Tiny pin pricks of light litter the sky. If we had more time I would have taken him to Ned Houk park, broken out Dad's telescope, shown him how much more beautiful everything was up close.

"Kayla, maybe we could," his voice is low and subdued and I know he's been reading my mind again.

"Dean, it's okay." I interrupt, giving his hand a light squeeze. "Let's not make promises we can't keep."

When he speaks again his voice is hoarse. "Okay."

We stay that way until the sun starts to peek over the horizon, painting everything in surreal, fantastic colors and Dean mutters an impressed "Wow." Then there are things to do and Sam is awake, wandering aimlessly around the house looking for us.

What I wouldn't give for just a little bit more time.

* * *

><p>"How are your ribs?" I ask, watching as Sam comes down the steps.<p>

"Sore," he shifts his body as he says this, to put less pressure on the injury I assume. "But better, thanks for asking. "

I remember reading somewhere that bruised ribs took weeks to heal, but then I didn't think most of what I read applied to the Winchesters.

"Did you sleep alright Sammy?" Dean asks from behind me.

"Yeah, pretty good actually," He says it like it's a rare commodity and then tilts his head towards his brother. "You?"

Dean shrugs.

"Fine." He says and changes the subject before Sam can question the validity of the statement. "You gonna be up for tonight?"

Sam looks offended at the question and maybe without realizing it puffs out his chest. "I'm going to be just fine jerk."

Deans lets himself look proud for just a second before his trademark stoicism is back.

It's over breakfast, French toast this time, that Sam says. "Did you find a pewter knife last night?"

What a random, weird thing to ask.

"Nope, I think we left it behind when I used it to decapitate that vamp in," Okay I guess not so random.

"San Antonio, right."

Decapitation….yeah that's a totally breakfast appropriate subject.

"Well I guess we have to track one down today then, damn." Sam mumbles, taking another bite of his French toast.

I have the feeling with the faces these two make when they are eating my cooking, that they are used to living off of fast food.

"What do we need pewter for?" I ask.

"A pewter knife, dipped in the sacrifice's blood, is the only way to kill the Tascona." Sam says.

Of course, it is. Why does anything surprise me at this point?

"So what do you think? Pawn shop? Walmart?" Dean inquires.

"I guess man,"

"I think I have one." I state dejectedly.

"Really?" they both sound excited. "Where?"

My heart is heavy as I relay. "In my parents' room."

I take my time eating my breakfast, knowing what I have to do and not sure if I have the strength to do it. I haven't stepped foot in my parents room in months, not being able to be in a room that contained their ghosts. I don't say anything as I clear the table, and silently make the journey upstairs. My hand falters on the doorknob and I think back to everything I have been through in the last couple of days and find the fortitude to go in.

It still smells like them, wisps of forgot memories stirring in the room. There is a pile of clothes laid out on the bed for when I had to pick out what to dress them in for the funeral.

I smother a cry as I circle their desk. I miss them so much.

Dad's pewter letter opener lies on the same spot he had left it on the desk, looking dull under the layer of dust. I run a finger along it, caught off guard by the onslaught of emotions that has me crashing to my knees… Years of memories and inside jokes and shared moments slam into me. I clutch my sides, rocking with the type of sadness that never really goes away. It might be minutes, or hours or decades before I can bring myself to stand up and pocket the pewter object.

When I turn I get caught in twin pools of hazel that brim with an echoed emotion. I never closed the door and I have a feeling he has been standing there for quite some time.

I close the door behind me, crossing over to him with a ghost of a smile.

I slip the letter opener into his palm. "Will this do?" The words part from my lips.

He's not looking at the pewter blade when he replies "Yes."

Sam and Dean are talking off to the side and I can't make out what they are saying, but something about the emotions on the guys face has me guessing it is something related to family.

I leave them alone to their conversation and me to my thoughts. Dad would have really liked them…well Sam anyway.

There's nothing left to do but wait, and minutes become torturous after the first hour.

Sam starts pacing, something I thought only the eldest Winchester did and finally says.

"I'm going to go for walk."

Dean doesn't try to stop him, just asks if his phone is charged and watches him leave.

"Sam gets a little claustrophobic, especially when he's laid up." He tells me.

"Do you want to go after him?" I ask, because the desire is carved into every inch in his face.

"He'll be fine." He replies and I don't know if he's trying to convince himself or me.

His phone rings half an hour later and Dean flicks it open.

"Sam? You okay?" His face mellows out at the answer. "Yeah okay…do you need me to come get you? Okay, see you soon." The phone closes with a muted chime.

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah, just wanted to let me know he's on his way back."

"Does he do that a lot?" I query.

"What? Take off? Only in days that end in Y." his tone is teasing. "Even as a kid Sammy was always a flight risk." He chuckles.

"But he always comes back." I say, and it's a statement not a question.

"Yeah, he always does." His tone is less light this time.

It's only 2pm by the time Sam comes back and we still have ten hours to kill.

T.V. becomes a great distraction until 1,000 ways to die becomes 1,000 ways Bailey could die. Then we move on to reading, although Dean complains after fifteen minutes that he can't get into this 'watered down sissy version of suspense' causing Sam to dig out a Steven King novel from within his jacket.

Dean beams at him. "This the brand new one?"

Sam smiles back. "Yup. Just came out two days ago."

So _that's _where Sam had gone.

"Friggin' sweet." Dean mumbles, readjusting himself in the chair and sighing contently.

Sam faces changes into happiness by degrees and I myself can't stop the smile infecting my lips.

It's a welcome change from the thick tension that has permeated the air the whole day.


	10. Chapter 10

**A.N.: So we've made it to Chapter 10 of this tale. For those of you who have been waiting for Dean and Kayla to get it on (so to speak) this is the chapter. They get to know each other, in the biblical sense. If you are young and this will scar you for life this is the 'eject button warning', do not send your therapy bills to me. LOL! Any who I don't have a ton of experience writing stuff like this so I hope you will cut me some slack. I also want to thank each and every one of you for your continued support and all of your humbling reviews. Thank you, thank you SO much.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Chapter 10**

It is six o'clock when distraction tactics start to fail and edginess creeps back into the house.

Dean snaps at Sam who snaps at Dean and I try not to rip them both new ones. It's been ten minutes of banter between the two of them and every barb gets less and less funny. Talk about fighting like cats and dogs.

Weariness and fear and inactivity have us all at each other and finally when I can stand no more I get up and start to clean. The house is going to be immaculate when I bring Bailey home.

Another hour crawls by with silence settling in, it's not a comfortable silence and I think it might be worse than the bickering. Sam tries to hide the fact that his ribs ache and Dean isn't buying it at all, he finally convinces him to take half of a pain pill and get a couple hours of rest because "We go in smart or we don't go in at all."

Sam tries to look put-off as he downs the pill, but he really looks something close to grateful, drifting off within fifteen minutes.

Dean smiles and affectionately ruffles the chestnut hair.

"Kid's as stubborn as an ox."

Just like his brother. I think.

His back is to me as I rise up from the couch.

"Can I do anything to help?" I ask, hoping he says yes and gives me something, _anything_ to do.

"You should get some rest too. We got a big night coming up."

"Couldn't sleep if I wanted too, my whole body is like on hyper alert."

He chuckles, turning to face me.

"Yeah, I know the feeling."

The tension builds steadily in the room until I flee it, making up some stupid excuse about towels that need to be folded.

He gives me five minutes before he follows me into the laundry room, watching me as I perform the mundane task.

"Kayla," he starts.

He's scared. An emotion I feel he probably isn't very familiar with. For me? For him? For Sam?

"I just want to let you know, that I don't know how I can ever thank you." I begin. "I would have died if you and Sam hadn't have showed up when you did and I," my words start to stick together.

"If anything happens to me, promise me you'll get Bailey out. Promise me that you'll save her."

He's at my side in an instant. "Nothing is going to happen."

"I'm not an idiot Dean, I know that there is a possibility that…"

"Okay yeah so there's a possibility, but it's not going to happen Kayla."

"I'm not some little girl who believes in fairy tales dammit," there are impassioned tears running down my cheeks. "I know this is a nightmare and if anything happens,"

"Kayla,"

"Promise me!" I shout, needing his word like I have never needed anything before in my life.

His hands are on my cheeks, brushing away the tear tracks there. "Okay, if it will make you feel better, I promise."

It does. Instantly the stone weighing in my heart fades away. All that there is now is me and Dean.

"It's one I won't need to keep though." And he sounds so sure, so cocky, so _Dean _that I pray with everything in me he is right.

His hands still haven't moved from my face and I'm sure he can hear the throb of my heart between us.

"Your call." He says, voice rough.

I look up at him, raising my hand to stroke his cheek.

"You sure?" he asks, one last time to back out, back down, change my mind.

Every moment we have had plays out in my mind as his hazel eyes darken. Hell yes I was sure.

* * *

><p>This kiss is very different than the others we have shared, it's frenzied and rushed and he's backing me into the dryer, both of us letting out a broken laugh when it buzzes behind us. His lips are hungry on mine, mine are equally ravenous on his, we are kissing like we can't breathe unless we are connected at the lips, his hands planting themselves in my hair, mine clawing into his jacket.<p>

The jacket comes off; he kisses the pathway of my jaw before moving back to my lips. I run my fingers along his arms, frantic to get to more of him.

"Dean," I breathe as all motion stills between us.

He pulls back to look at me and I suddenly feel like he is staring right into my soul.

I feel more exposed than if I were naked in front of him.

"What is it?" I ask, afraid I won't like the answer.

He doesn't answer me, not with words anyway, he just lowers his head back down to mine and kisses me again, but this time there is immense tenderness and caring and something on his lips that tastes like the beginning of love.

The kisses are slower, but full of much more than want or need. Full of something I have never felt before. His mouth lingers on the split in my lip, caressing that particular spot. His hands are gentle in their endeavor and they end up on the small of my back, fingers flexing into the skin. My arms wrap around his neck, one hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

I try to kiss him back with the same feeling as he is giving me, and the message our lips and bodies are sending is hello and goodbye and all the things we don't have the time to say. As his lips land on a pulse point in my neck I let out a soft gasp, even more so when his teeth scrap against the flesh.

My fingernails tighten into his back, marking crescent moons into the tanned skin.

He grunts in response as I shed his shirt from his body. My hands can't get enough of him as they slide along his belly.

He seems to think it is only fair that I return the favor as he nudges my shirt up and over to join the pile at our feet.

His eyes devour my form, his hands already working to free my pants.

This is really happening I think as my fingers pull his waistband towards me.

We clunk together with an awkward chuckle his hands catching on mine.

"Oh sorry," I mumble, my breasts flush up against his chest.

He breathes and the friction on my bra makes my breath hitch.

His lips purse like he is about to ask a question and I can't take it one more second. I reach up to grab his lips in a bruising kiss.

His mouth is only startled for a second before he returns the attack. His tongue does a quick sweep of my mouth and I only just manage to bit back the moan that lays in wait in my belly.

He pulls away with a challenging grin as I lean forward and take one of his lips in between my teeth.

He hisses in response and grabs the back of my head to crush our faces back together. His tongue is velvet fire on mine and want starts to wind through all of my limbs as I feel my pants fall to the ground.

I follow his lead and wiggle his down to the ground as well as we both almost trip in our haste to claim one another.

He kicks his pants across the room with a frustrated grunt before yanking mine away with one quick motion.

There are very few articles of clothing left to mask the heat billowing between us.

"Kayla," he starts the word husky and stuttering on his amazing lips.

I can't respond, can't do anything but mold our bodies back together and sigh in relief when he finally unclicks the back of my bra and my bare breasts can rest again his body.

We find purchase on a wall as my bra is flung away from us. I make mewling noises of content that I would be otherwise embarrassed as hell about as he kisses me as his hands playing with the top of my panties.

His palms suddenly shift to cradle my breasts and it's all I can do to stay upright and conscious with the delicious waves of lust blurring my vision. My head falls back as his mouth takes possession of one of my nipples, his other hand kneading and squeezing and bringing me to a state of quivering vulnerability.

He snags one of the folded towels from the dryer and tosses it down as we both go crashing to the floor. His hands travel the expanse of my body, mouth following where his fingers have just traveled. I catch his earlobe with my teeth and worry it gently.

"Fuck," he groans, the bulge in his boxers twitching up against my thigh.

I nod curtly unable to verbally communicate that I completely agree.

His fingers end up in my hair, tangling in the locks as we grind and our last vestige of clothing inches closer to joining the rest of the wardrobe graveyard about the room.

His palms lie gently on my wrists as he kisses me again.

Flashes of my wrists being gripped and held down fly through me as I heave for air.

He leans back and away from me, taking his hands with him.

"I," I stumble over my words, body caught in a tug of war between want and disgust. "I'm sorry."

I screw my eyes shut unable to deal with the pity I know is on his face.

I'm startled into tears when Dean traces the tips of his fingers very lightly down my face as his other hand reaches over to cover me with one of the fallen towels.

"We don't have to do anything Kayla," his thumb brushes at the wetness that trails down my cheek. "It's okay."

It's so far from okay I want to scream. He is here and wonderful and had saved me and I want this _so_ bad.

I want him inside me and around me and with me.

I can feel the warmth leaving me as he shifts to get up and I know that if I let him leave now I will never have this chance again.

"Dean, wait!" I cry out sounding much more desperate than I want to.

"Kayla," he begins his back turned towards me. "I get it okay. I understand."

I jump to my feet and reach out for his hand. "No, you don't. You don't understand, but that's okay. I wouldn't want you to."

He turns back towards me and I see desire light up his eyes before he looks to the ground in guilt.

I guide his hand back to my body. "Touch me." I whisper, fingers intertwining into his. "Talk to me."

"Kayla," he starts with a shake of his head.

"Kiss me. Make love to me; make me know without a shadow of a doubt that it's you Dean. You and no one else." I urge rising on my toes to hide a kiss underneath his jaw.

He swallows hard and then looks down at me. "Okay," he murmurs as he presses us back together. "Okay."

All at the once the fire is back in the room as he encircles me in his arms. I can feel the cold outline of his amulet pressed between my breasts. Our heartbeats run rapidly and I can feel his need in every touch as finally the last barrier between us is tossed to the side.

His body is a work of art, scars and injuries mar his skin in zigzag patterns all over. I can't help but gape and gasp and make an almost whimpering sound as I stare at his magnificence. Made all the more beautiful by knowing him.

I feel shy as he takes in all of my features as well as I fight the urge to cover my less than perfect body and flee the room.

Again as if he can read my mind he states. "_Goddamn_ Kayla."

"Back at you." I retort, my voice rough.

We stand like that for a few more seconds, reveling in the feel of seeing and being seen and then as if pulled together by some magnetic force we are back together bodies folding as we head back towards the floor.

Air is huffed out through gritted teeth and curses and reverences and downright gibberish pour from my mouth as he thrusts in time with my pulse. Every stroke brings me closer to the edge as Dean mumbles things like "beautiful" and "awesome" and even the occasionally impressed "son of a bitch."

His arms are placed on both sides of my body, pillars of strength and masculine power and yet somehow when he touches me I can think of nothing but how gentle he is.

His toes keep flicking mine as the gyrations pick up and he sweeps back sweat soaked hair that keeps finding its way to my forehead.

His mouth never leaves mine for long and every kiss and touch makes me ache for more. My fingers glide through his hair as I notice that his entire body is covered in sheen of sweat as well, making his skin glisten. He thrusts his hips harder and the sweet and powerful burst I feel pool in me makes my eyes flutter.

"Kayla?" he questions.

"I'm fine. Don't stop." I grind out. "Seriously, I'll kill you if you stop."

Dean chuckles. "Yes ma'am."

It is only a handful of minutes later when Dean's whole body starts to tighten up and I can feel myself hold back my release with every stroke of him inside.

He rocks my body into his and catches my lips once more as my legs go up around his waist.

With one last nudge forward he plunges all the way into me, filling me to the hilt with a gasp.

"Dean," I mutter as his hips rock forward.

He can't answer his face pulled tight in anticipation of his release.

A spasm runs through me and with one joined cry we both plummet over the edge and into blissful oblivion.

* * *

><p>I feel dazed and stunned and like I'm living inside some sort of fantasy. My legs are full of pins and needles and my brain floats as if on the edges of a happy dream.<p>

My head is pillowed against Dean's chest his arm flung around me in a lazy embrace. He smiles as he leans his head towards me his face relaxed and happy for the first time since I've known him.

I try and push my hair away from my face and I know I must look flushed and gross.

His expression turns tender as he places his lips to the top of my head. "Knock it off Kayla. You know you look great."

I snort. "No, I know _you_look great."

Dean stretches out on the towel as he pulls me closer. "Fine, we both look great. Now is your ego fed yet? Can I pass the fuck out now?"

"Yeah," I laugh curling into his chest. "We both can."

"Sleep tight Kayla."

I laugh softly. "You too Dean. Sweet dreams."

And they are.

* * *

><p>We don't use anymore words as we head back into the living room. What else can be said? What else needs to be said?<p>

He checks on Sam, before sitting back down on the loveseat. I stand unsure of what to do with myself. Dean holds one hand out to me and I'm suddenly positive that he is the type of person who says so much more with actions than words. I take it and he pulls me to his chest both arms wrapping around me in a protective vice. He breathes into my hair and I breathe in his scent (a mixture of gun powder and leather) and before I know it we are both nodding off.

The soft alarm of my cell phone wakes me up and when I go to grab it I forget exactly where I'm at and have to work to attempt to untangle myself from his limbs. And Sam, who is completely lucid now stares down at us with amusement.

Dean wakes up slowly, pushing up on his elbows and favoring me with a lopsided smile. He eyes Sam with disdain muttering, "Take a picture, it will last longer."

Sam's whole face turns red and then he sheepishly scratches the back of his head before shuffling his feet away.

I'm still trying to separate my body from his with as little awkwardness as possible when Dean's eyes slide over to the clock off to the right. 10:45pm.

His face is back to the face of a hunter as he moves me off to the side. "It's go time."

Time goes too fast after that, every second slipping through my fingers; we are loading up duffel bags and checking weapons. We have ten minutes and I walk every room in the house hands running along all of the surfaces, afraid this is the last time I will be here, doing this. I've written a letter to Bailey, stuck it on her bed, sent up a quick prayer that she won't ever have to read it.

The boys are standing side by side, looking like soldiers, looking like warriors.

"Is it time?" I ask, surprised at how dead my voice is.

A simultaneous pair of bobbing heads. "Yeah, it's time."

I cock the hammer back at the gun and grin at them. Feeling much more badass than I know I even have the ability to be. "Let's do this."

In the car Dean reminds Sam and I that with the Tascona out in the open it's got the advantage and to only take the shot if we are sure it won't take us out in the process.

I'm scared, but oddly at peace as Sam and Dean talk in the front seat.

"How are your ribs?" Dean asks.

"They suck, but I'll be alright. Thanks." Sam shoves his older brothers' shoulder for just a second.

"If things get bad Sam, hit the ground, seriously don't try and be a hero." he mutters.

"Yeah and let you have all the fun." Sam chuckles.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

And that sounds like I love you as much as anything I have ever heard.

I settle into the back seat with a smile, letting the rumble of the Impala lull my away from my fears, if only for a second.

Deans jerks the wheel to the left as we pull off to the shoulder and then we are out of the car.

"We'll have to walk the rest of the way if we don't want to draw attention to ourselves," he says in way of an explanation.

"Oh," I breathe, stuffing the gun they have provided me into the waistband of my jeans. "Makes sense."

Dean shifts the duffel bag higher on his shoulder, handing the letter opener to his brother.

I watch both of them as if in a daze, following them into the dark entrance of the park.

"If you can get to Bailey, then get your ass back to the car and wait for us." Dean is at my side.

"Yeah, let me and Dean take care of the rest." Sam is on my other side.

I need them to know, I need to tell them... "I don't know what I would have done without you guys," I pause and a flash of white teeth from two pairs of mouths is what greets me.

"It's just part of the job description." Dean smirks as Sam nods.

"Cut the crap and just let me say thank you already." I groan.

Both of them fall silent.

"Thank you. For everything."

Deans and Sam speak in unison once more. "You're welcome."

Dean's head goes down first. "So are we done with this chick flick moment, or what?" He brushes past me and takes the lead.

Sam laughs softly muttering something about "He's hopeless." and flashes a smile in my direction.

* * *

><p>I feel like we've been walking in circles and a quick glance at my watch shows it's eleven thirty five. We better find Bailey soon or...<p>

My thoughts are halted in my head as I walk right into Sam's broad back.

"What is?"

"Shh." Sam hushes me, crouching down.

Dean is on his knees too and pivots to face both of us.

"Well good news is the bastard can't have a lot of backup when the ritual is performed. This particular demon likes it nice and private, so it looks like it's just him and one of his flunkies. The bad news is the Tascona is an even meaner looking son of a bitch when it doesn't have a roof trapping it."

He shakes his gun free from his pocket and casts his eyes back to in front of him.

There is a thunderous crash from above us and lighting flashes in the sky and I can see just past Dean... to the tree that my terrified sister is tethered on.

My heart ratchets in my chest and my breath hisses out of me.

I don't even realize I am moving until Deans' arm is on mine.

I shake him off with little more than a grunt.

His arm immediately moves back, this time in an iron grip.

"Cool it Kayla!" He snaps under his breath.

He squeezes my arm once more and I am pulled from my almost trance like state.

"She's right there," I moan and Sam takes my other arm.

"Kayla, you have to keep a level head." Sam states.

"But Bailey,"

"Bailey needs you to stay calm."

How does he know what to say? If I had the rest of my life I still don't think I would be able to figure these two out.

Rain sprinkles from the sky and I shiver.

"Great, just flipping great." Dean mutters.

"It will give us cover." Sam says and moves past Dean to crouch behind one of the few trees in the park.

Bailey is only a couple of hundred feet away and I can hear her cries now.

The sound enrages me.

"Steady," Dean again, he must have seen my face.

I pull the gun from my waistband. "I want him Dean."

Dean nods and Sam comes back from his spot ahead of us.

"The flunky left Dean. And the Tascona is gone. I think it's about to begin."

"Bout time, I'm getting leg cramps." Dean grumbles.

"What are we going to do about the governor?" Sam inquires.

Dean looks back at me and then turns towards Sam.

"Kayla already called dibs." He states with a grin.

It's not the time, but for all I know I will never have the time again.

I crush my lips to his for just an instant as the rain begins to pour from the heavens.

Dean has surprise written on his face when I pull away. Sam gives me exasperated eyes that very clearly say '_Now _seems like a good time to do that?'

"What was that for?" Dean asks.

I shrug, pushing water soaked hair out of my face. "Kiss for courage?"

Dean's smile is playful when he says. "You should be scared more often."

Sam rolls his eyes at both of us and then jerks his head in a forward motion. We follow him farther up.

Dean exchanges a look with Sam and I know it's go time when a voice calls out.

"Come on out children!"


	11. Chapter 11

**A.N.: So….it took me forever and a day to post this. Sorry! My only excuse is that I was on vacation. Thanks to everyone who has loved, read, reviewed and just plain gave this story a chance. Your support means more to me than I can ever say. Only the epilogue to go.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Chapter 11**

This is not part of the plan I think as Sam and Dean try to move backwards.

I hear the safety of a gun click off as Bailey whimpers. "Please."

I look at the Winchesters who make hand gestures for me to stay put as I slip the gun into my back pocket.

"If you don't want me to put another hole between this dear girl eyes you need to come out," there is a sound of a gun striking into flesh and Baileys' shrill cry. "Now!"

My body pushes up to my feet of my own accord as Dean hisses out. "Kayla!"

Sam grabs his brothers' shoulder and pulls them back under the cover of a picnic table.

My hands rise above my head as I walk out into the open.

Rich smiles at me as he directs. "Now come on over here, and don't think I don't see that gun in your back pocket."

I curse internally and turn my back to him as I take several steps backwards.

"Kayla?" Bailey squeaks, turning her head towards me.

"Hey Bails," I force a grin at my sister as the man pulls my gun from my back pocket.

"Where are the rest of you?" he asks, throwing the gun to the side.

I shake my head. "What rest of us?"

My head whips back from the force of the pistol on my cheek and I taste blood welling up in my mouth. If I could manage to go just _one_ day without being attacked...

"Don't lie to me." He growls, pulling me back towards him.

"I'm not!" I yell. "I had some of my friends with me, but they got scared. They took off as soon as you yelled." His grip loosens from my hair.

"Fair weather friends huh?" he chuckles lightly.

"Yeah." I answer and shoot a look to Bailey hoping it's saying 'Everything is going to be okay' and not "We are so screwed." Terror has a way of making things get lost in translation.

He looks me over with a mocking laugh. "So what was the plan? Were you going to come in and save her all by yourself Annie Oakley?"

He circles me like a predator. "You're in over your head darling." He huffs and pulls me back against his body.

I instantly feel ill and fight back bile in my throat. My brain takes me back to the other night, the violence in his touch, the feeling of utter helplessness. Despair clogs my heart as he yanks my head back towards him.

"Have you figured out where your plan went horribly wrong yet?" His voice is condescending.

"Because I'm thinking it was you ever thinking you could do anything at all." He laughs. "You're only one person, and a woman at that!" He shoves my head away from his with disgust. "Me, I'm doing great things…"

My mind tries to block out what he is saying, my eyes seeking two other pairs in the dark.

Please, _please_, one more time guys, just one more time I need you to come to my rescue.

Dean eyes find mine in the darkness and to my amazement he winks.

It's unbelievable how much hope that simple gesture gives me. My mind clears as this asshole finishes his speech.

"I've kept the fires of hell away from your town; everything else is burning to the ground, leaving behind only ashes. And you want to bat your eyes over one stupid virgin? I'm saving your piece of crap home." He leans in close to my ear. "Where's the gratitude?"

Keep calm, keep calm, keep calm. Please Kayla, keep it together just a little longer.

Dean moves another couple of feet forward and I hold his gaze to steady my heart pounding in my chest. He nods once as Rich Kipling whispers. "I deserve a fucking metal."

I lock my neck and throw all of the weight of my head into his nose. It hurts like hell, but I grin as I hear the satisfying crunch of a bone giving away.

"You bitch!" He yells, kicking my legs out from under me.

Idiot doesn't even realize how easy he just made it for Dean.

Two pops sound from the darkness and I watch as Rich's body jerks with each slug that slams into him.

Dean jogs towards me now, lifting me to my feet.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, thanks to you." I smile and watch as Sam comes out of cover from the opposite side.

Rich groans in pain as I step over to him, picking up my fallen gun on the way.

"Do you know what you've done?" he gasps, as his hands attempt to plug up the hole in his shoulder. I can see in the moonlight that the other bullet has ripped a non-fatal but undoubtedly painful chunk from his neck. "You stupid, stupid whore."

I level the weapon at his head with a sneer. "Yeah, I've saved my sister."

"You what?" He sputters.

"Hey Rich, I lied…_this_ is the best night of my life."

Recognition flashes in his eyes for just a moment only to be replaced by shock when I pull back the hammer and unload a clip into his chest. I don't feel anything even close to remorse.

"Kayla!" Bailey screams as I race over to her.

Sam is already working on the ropes that keep her trapped. Seeing my baby sister alive and unharmed lights something warm and loving up in my heart.

"Bailey, are you okay?" I question, my fingers digging into the knotted rope.

"Yeah, yeah I think so." I wipe at the trickle of blood from her lip, thinking how ironic it is that we will have matching scars.

"Thank God." I breathe and give myself a moment to rest my forehead against hers.

"Thanks for coming for me." Her voice shakes. Her imprisoned hands strain against their binds to grab onto the bottom of my shirt.

I can't find words.

"Kayla?"

"Yeah, Bailey?"

She ducks her head so only I can hear her. "Who _is _that? He's really cute." She moves her head in Sam's direction.

It's so very like Bailey that I am caught off guard by the question and I actually scare myself when I let out a loud laugh.

Sam eyes me sideways still working on the ropes, but expressing concern with green eyes.

"Sorry," I start, pulling at a particularly stubborn knot. "It's just," I pause and a bellow of "SAM!" turns my blood into ice inside my veins.

Lightning casts a clear view to the shadow of enormous wings expanding behind the younger Winchester and I can hear Dean holler from a distance. Sam's eyes go wide in his skull as he throws himself to the side, barely missing the scythe like talons from ripping into him.

"Move dammit!" Dean shouts and I back up as a single shot rings through the air. It hits the Tascona in the side before the beast takes to the skies.

Dean rushes to Sam and pulls him to his feet.

"Sam, you okay?"

A groan of pain is his only response.

"Sammy! Talk to me."

"Yeah," A pant of breath. "She didn't get me. I'm okay."

I move back to Bailey who swings her gaze between the three of us.

"Did you join the Ghostbusters while I was gone or what?" She asks confusion in her voice.

I chuckle again, my eyes shifting between my sister and scanning the skies for the silent terror in the air.

"Or what." I flash a grin at her. "I'll tell you all about it when we get out of here."

Bailey smiles. "Sounds great."

Dean and Sam race up from behind me and join me in my efforts to free my sister.

"Hey Bailey, I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean. We're here to help." Sam slips the letter opener from his back pocket and slices through one of the ropes.

"KAYLA!" Dean yells from a distance as I _feel _that evil bitch land behind me.

I step backwards as the Tascona narrows her red eyes before she starts to pursue me.

"Run Kayla!" Bailey bellows and I turn and do just that.

I've only made it about ten feet before one of its wings slams into my side and I go soaring.

I screw my eyes shut tight and wait for the impact of whatever the hell I end up hitting.

The impact is against something warm and wet and not a collision with the hard cold ground like I am expecting.

There is a soft "oomph." noise expelled from above me and then I am being turned on my side and checked for injuries at a speed I can't even comprehend.

"Dean?" I question and he doesn't answer just jumps to his feet and fires behind me.

The Tascona lets out a hideous roar and lifts its damaged body back to the stars.

Sam works at Bailey's legs now as Dean and I run back to them.

"Kayla, are you okay? Did it get you? Did you get it?" she babbles, and I calm her with a touch to her now free hand.

"I love you Bailey."

Her eyes fill with tears as she squeezes back.

"We can have dear diary moments _after_ we get the hell out of here," Dean huffs as he pulls frustrated at one of the bonds.

"Son of a bitch." He mutters as Sam slices through it.

He's right, get Bailey safe and then…

"Almost there," Sam mumbles and with a pained groan as the rope cuts into one of Bailey's legs she is free.

Dean swings his gun in a circle, nodding towards Sam. "Get them back to the car." He orders and Sam helps me get Bailey to her feet.

"Got it." He grabs onto my shoulder and tugs me along. "Come on."

Bailey shakes her legs with a frown, complaining about pins and needles and it is such a welcome sound to my ears I have to fight back a lump in my throat.

Dean is at my back, moving the gun left then right, sweeping the area.

There is a cry from overhead and Dean snarls. "Keep moving!"

When Bailey is finally free of the residual rope around her ankles she turns and pulls me into a hug.

Sam swings back around and Dean hisses. "Hurry it up."

I return the embrace and Bailey whispers. " I love you too."

Sam looks apologetic as he moves back to our side. "Kayla, we really have to," and without warning in my peripheral vision is red, raging eyes.

I shove Bailey away from me with all the force I used to gather her to me a moment before and I have just enough time to think 'Thank God she is safe," before wickedly sharp talons rip through my stomach. My body hits the ground with an accompanying volley of gunshots. I don't think the Tascona will be getting away this time…

"Kayla!" all three voices sound with different degrees of desperation as my eyes flutter open. Water spots on my glasses blur my vision momentarily as I blink rapidly. I can make out the Tascona as it flops on the ground and howls in pain and Dean hovers just above me, an unrecognizable emotion on his face. Bailey and Sam are to my left; both pairs of eyes are full of disbelief. The only thing that holds any warmth on me is the torrent of plasma running past my legs and I can see the gaping wound where my stomach should have been.

Bailey whimpers softly the words "Please." and "No." and "Kayla." All of her words, her wretched, forlorn words make their way to my ears. I reach out to her on instinct, body immediately lighting up with a level of pain I have never known before. Her face contorts into misery and it's then that I know I'm dying.

I watch Bailey's eyes trace my form and I groan out. "No, don't let her look." Determined to spare my sister from being haunted by one more grisly image. "Please, don't let her…" My voice sounds so quiet I can't even be sure I've said anything until Sam drags my wailing sister away from my body with one last melancholy glance at me.

"Thank you Sam, thank," I pause and draw in a shaking breath. Dean is still besides me, eyes boring into mine.

"Kayla, don't move okay." His face is sad,_ so _sad as I lift a shuddering hand to jaw. My entire hand is red and I don't want to get Dean's face messy so I drop the limb back to the ground.

"Dean, you don't have to," I start and press a hand to my gut in a futile attempt to keep the necessary contents there.

I can't be sure if it is my intestines or his hand in my palm. It squeezes back. Okay, hand then.

"I can go to the car, grab the first aid kit, come back for you…" he breaks off, eyes bright with dampness.

"You're a bad liar." I cough and Dean smirks at the irony of that statement.

"Is Bailey," I try to sit up and his hand is there to stop me.

Oh right, dying, shouldn't try to get up...

"She's fine. You saved her. She's fine." He tries to smile reassuringly and I think I might just love him for staying with me.

"Good." At least she is okay.

"Kayla, I'm sorry,"

"My fault, not yours. You saved my sister, that's all I need." He leans in closer as if my voice is harder to make out now.

"Thank you for staying with me. I know I look terrible," It's odd the things I'm thinking about in my last minutes.

"You kidding? You look great. I always did like the view of a girl on her back." We both chuff a laugh as a tear runs down his face. I wish he wouldn't cry, his face is too beautiful for such tragic expressions.

"Take care of Bailey, take care of Sam…" I can barely keep my eyes open now. "Take care of yourself."

"Kayla, please," The word sounds so out of place on the hunters' lips.

"I'm glad you're here." I wheeze.

His lips brush my cheek, jaw jostling my glasses and I'm not sure if the tears there are from him or me as he murmurs. "Me too."

My head falls back, I don't have the strength to hold it up anymore and the stars they look so beautiful. Everything looks better close up. All I can register anymore is Dean as he holds my head to his and a gentle breeze that raises up the flesh on my arms and the smell of rain as I take one last quivering breath before I know no more.

**A.W.: Hi again. I don't usually put an AW at the end of a chapter, but I felt this one needed it. I just wanted to let everyone know that I didn't kill Kayla to be mean, I really debated on ever posting this (for multiple reasons) and once my beta had told me how much she loved Kayla I was terrified to send her this chapter. I have thought several times about changing the ending, but I had to stay true to the show, the story and the characters. And to myself as a writer. Thank you SO much to all of you who have read this, and I'm sorry if I have offended or upset anyone. Or if you think this AW is stupid, sorry for that too. :P**


	12. Epilogue

**A.N.: So here is the real end guys. Thank you for all of your support and reviews and kindness, it means everything to me. A special shout out to my beta Kat, thank you so much for taking the time and effort to read this and help me fix up the parts that didn't work. *hugs* I appreciate all of you more than I can say.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Epilogue**

I must be in shock as Sam lets me go and the guy I think is Dean stalks back towards us covered in blood. My _sisters'_ blood. I finally stop screaming and crying and just watch in numb observation as he takes what looks like Dad's letter opener from Sam's outstretched palm.

"Dean?" Sam questions his voice rough and I didn't even notice until that moment that he is crying too.

Dean doesn't say anything as he heads back to my sister's unmoving body and slips the blade almost tenderly along her wound.

His face is anything but kind as he stalks towards the flailing monster, climbs on top of it and plunges the blade into its chest. The things yowls out in torment and Dean pulls the blade free and then does it again, jerking it to the side as the beast dies in the middle of shouting out its suffering. Dean drops the blade in the grass, flicks out what I think is a lighter and sets the nightmare alight. His face is dead as he passes by me and Sam without looking back.

I don't remember much after that; Dean had come back with a blanket in his arms and gathered my sister up to his chest. I followed behind Sam, my vision dimming before my legs gave out on me. He must have carried me the rest of the way because the next thing I knew we were back at the house.

Then nothing, snippets of gasps and sobs and empty promises that everything would be fine and voices, mine, Deans, Sams….who knows? Who cares? Kayla is gone…

I don't so much sleep as cease to exist for an extended period of time and when I wake up Sam hovers in the doorway and stares at me like he knows what it's like to lose everything in the blink of an eye.

"Bailey, I'm so sorry," he whispers and when I move to look up at him there is no one around. I wonder if I imagined it…

How do I get over this, how do I move on? What am I going to do? I lean back into my pillow and start at the noise of paper crinkling under my palm.

There are three envelopes sticking out from the corner of the bottom of my pillow. One addressed to me, one to Sam and one to Dean. As I lift the corner of the one addressed to me I'm crying hard. I have to wipe my face so I don't ruin the letter.

_Bailey,_

_ There are a lot of things in this world that don't make sense. Such as a giant evil bat crashing into your living room and taking your sister, or you and me being all that's left of the Tucker family. But then there are things that make perfect sense, like God putting us together as sisters. I wouldn't have made it on my own and I'm sorry if I haven't been good to you the last couple of months. Being around Sam and Dean these last couple days has given me back some sort of spark again, nothing like having your sister thrust into mortal danger to put your own petty problems in perspective. I hope you __aren't reading this Bails, I pray with everything in me that I was able to race into your room and shred this before you ever had to see what I feared might be my final words. But if you are reading this, if I did...well you know, if I saved you it will all be worth it. Don't get me wrong I don't have a death wish, I want nothing more to than to bring you home and tease you endlessly on the crush you will undoubtedly have on Sam ( they __**are**__ ridiculously good looking!) but if I can get you home safe and sound, even if I'm not there, I won't have any regrets. I'm not going to lie to you. I never have and I won't waste time by starting now. It's going be hard for you Bailey. Life is going to suck for a while, but your life doesn't end because mine did. Don't even think of giving up, life means so much more than that. For God's sake please be careful. I love you, whether I'm __alive or dead, that will never change._

_Always,_

_Kay_

I fold it up and choke back tears. Even in death she knew just what to say.

It takes me several more reads to get up the will to go downstairs, and when I do Dean is watching the news. They are running a special on finding Rich Kipling's body, littered with holes like a piece of Swiss cheese. Sam smiles sadly at me to acknowledge my presence and Dean changes the channel looking strangely proud.

* * *

><p>Funeral arrangements are the worst, especially with Kayla wanting to be cremated. I did not know how I was going to explain that she had been gutted to the crematory operator, but when we transported her body either Sam or Dean had already taken care of that, because she was cleaned up and dressed in clean clothes. How much time did I black out?<p>

They both stayed for the service, sorrow evident even through their masks of stoicism. After the service I contacted my uncle who was going to be moving to Clovis to be my guardian in the next couple of days.

When we got back to the house, I run upstairs to change out of my black clothes and when I cross back into the hallways, Dean is in Kayla's' room, one of his hands twisted in her bedspread. I want to ask him what gave him the right, needing somewhere to place all of my anger, but his shoulders began to shake. Subtly at first and then with the force of an earthquake.

I can almost hear Kayla in the hallway standing next to me. "Don't blame them, it's not their fault."

What did this man and my sister share in those few days that had him shaking like this? I get the impression that Dean isn't the type of person who spares much time for tears. I have tears pouring down my face by the time he turns and walks out of the room. It really sucks that Kayla isn't here to fill in the blanks...

Another two days pass with Dean and Sam popping in regularly and staying less and less time. Dean seems like it really bothers him to be in the house and a time or two I catch him just staring at the laundry room. Sam is completely aware of just how much because he is always the one making up an excuse as to why they have to leave.

He tells me once when I am alone, staring out into the backyard that "All she cared about was saving you."

I turn towards him with raw eyes to match my raw heart. "Would that make a difference to you?"

Sam casts his gaze to Dean in the entryway, looking like he would rather be anywhere else doing anything else and says "No, no it wouldn't."

The next time he tries to talk to me he is just tells me about how he lost someone (and the way he says it communicates that someone is almost _everyone)_ and he knows what it feels like.

I want to rage out and tell him there is no way he can know how I feel, no way he can understand what I am going through, but when I turn my heated glare on him his eyes are crammed full of sympathy. We just sit in silence until Dean guns the engine of his car.

I force myself to eat and breath and sleep. Even though it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Because Kayla was right, she hadn't given up her life so I could wallow in mine. I even manage an actual smile when the guys show up this time.

When they both show up with the car idling outside I know it's because they have come to say goodbye. I run upstairs to retrieve their letters and Dean looks like it physically pains him to see her handwriting scrawled across the front of the envelope. I know the feeling.

Sam opens his and reads through it smiling the whole time, smiling through his tears by the time he gets to the end.

Dean opens his and I can only make out the first couple of lines

_'The timing was all wrong, the feelings were all right, and no matter what happens I'm so grateful that I met you.'_

Before Dean folds it back up and shoves it into his jacket pocket. I don't know if he will ever finish it, but I hope so.

Sam hands me a piece of paper with a series of numbers printed on it. "Give us a call whenever." he says and then they are just awkwardly standing there waiting for permission to go.

I grip tight onto Sam's waist in a hug. "Thanks guys."

Sam pats the top of my head and I curse whoever decided it was a good idea for me to be fourteen at this very moment.

I look at Dean and can't think of anything to say to him.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he whispers and it feels like the only thing left to say is "You too."

We chat for a little while longer and then they are checking their watches too much and my uncle is coming by in an hour and I really don't want to have to explain why there are two guys way older than me just hanging around my house.

As if on cue Dean slaps his brother in the middle of his chest. "Time to hit the road Sammy."

Sam nods. "Goodbye Bailey."

I raise my hand a farewell wave as I watch them get into the car. I can hear Dean grumble "How long are we going to listen to this pansy crap?" as alternate rock leaks out of the car.

Sam sighs loud and long, before flipping the station over to what sounds like classic rock.

"Music to my ears." Dean sighs and runs a hand along the dash.

"Its music to _everyone's_ ears Dean."

Dean looks embarrassed, but smiles for the first time in days at his brother.

As I watch the car start to disappear into the distance, sunlight glinting off of the metal exterior I can almost feel Kayla at my back mumbling something about "those two never change."

I feel her touch a hand to my shoulder. "I'm always here." and then I close the door on the sight of the Winchesters driving away with something like hope fluttering to life in my chest.

**Roll credits!**

**Thanks again you guys! :-]**


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